Legacy
by N.L. Rummi
Summary: COMPLETE. It has been many years since the final battle with Venger, and the Young Ones have left the Realm forever . . . or so they thought.
1. Unions and Reunions

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the rights to _Dungeons_ _and_ _Dragons_ (the label, the original characters from the series, or the premise behind it). The following is a work of fiction based on the animated show of the early 1980's and references are being made without the permission of the copyright owners. I am making no money from this; only the pleasure of writing about a program that I have found enjoyment in for years. The work itself is mine, as are several new characters. If you wish to copy, distribute, or refer to this story (as well as characters and events within), please give proper notice and credit to the author.

**Author's Note**: This story is set to take place after the events of Michael Reaves' _Requiem_ (the "official," but never-produced, last episode of D&D). Several references are made to the action occurring within that script, with some allusions to my own previous works of fiction thrown in for good measure! (Reading any of my other stories is not really necessary to understand the events of this fic. _Requiem_ can be found on the web at Mr. Reaves' own site. I would definitely suggest reading it before reading this one. -- Plus, it's **_really_** good!) Please, R&R! I always appreciate your questions, comments, and constructive criticism. Thank you all . . . and enjoy!

**Rating: ****PG-13** for some language and violent elements

**"Thank Yous"**: My heartfelt thanks to Victoria Bishop, as I used some of the last names created by her. To the following for all their help: Heidi for all your input and great feedback, the "Editorial Queen" for your proofreading skills and literary expertise, and to Alavahr for your terrific information about the RPG!

* * *

**_Legacy_**

**_A Dungeons and Dragons Fan Fiction_**

**_By N.L. Rummi_**

* * *

**_Chapter 1 -- Unions and Reunions_**

"Does Bobby know what time to pick us up?"

"I told him 3:30," came the voice from upstairs.

"3:30?" The blonde man emerged at the foot of the steps, a confused look on his face as he fumbled to knot his necktie. "Our plane isn't scheduled to land until 4:00!"

A robed woman appeared from around the corner at the top of the stairs, bent forward at the waist as she towel-dried her hair. As she straightened upright, she flipped her head back and pulled the towel into a turban atop her head. She flashed a bright smile. "I know," she said sweetly, "But knowing my brother, if I tell him 4:00 he'll get there at 4:30. So, this way, he's more likely to arrive on time!"

The man snickered as he turned his full attention back to his tie. "Are you excited?" he called again. "We haven't seen--Whoa!" He jumped as he glanced up to see his wife suddenly standing at the foot of the steps directly in front of him. He automatically relinquished his hold on the tie as she reached forward to straighten it for him. "God, Sheila," he mused with a laugh, "I don't think I'll ever get used to how you do that!"

"Do what, Hank?" Sheila asked with playful innocence.

Hank wrapped his arms around her waist and smiled down at her. "Move without me seeing it," he replied, even though she knew very well what he meant. Sheila often moved silently and unnoticeably, and often without even realizing it. It was something she had been able to do for years. A skill she had unwittingly honed as a teenager.

"Yes, I'm excited," Sheila confirmed, giving Hank a quick kiss before heading back upstairs to finish getting ready, "So are Mom and Dad. They haven't seen their granddaughter in ages! They were disappointed when we couldn't make it in for an extended stay for your reunion last time."

"I was, too," Hank replied as he made his way up the stairs to stand in the bathroom doorway, "But not about my class reunion. I didn't mind missing that. I was sorry because we hadn't gotten to see your folks since the Christmas before." He grabbed a few items off the sink to put into his travel bag. "I would never miss _your_ class reunion, though. There are more important people at that one!"

Sheila turned to him with a smile. "I spoke to all of them," she said. "As far as I know, they're all coming."

Hank gave an enthused nod. "Great," he said, "Guess I'll rally the troops!" He walked down the hall, stopped in front of a room at the very end, and knocked. When all that could be heard was the not-so-faint din of music coming from inside, he knocked a bit louder.

"I said come in!" a voice called from the inside.

Hank poked his head through the door. "Sorry, Honey," he said, "I didn't hear you. You almost ready?"

A young girl turned to face him. She looked every bit like her mother. The cloudy blue-green eyes, the porcelain skin, even the light freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks. She did, however, have the thick blonde hair of her father, grown just past her shoulders.

"Almost, Daddy," she responded as she placed the last travel necessity in her bag: A slightly worn rag-doll with an Eastern Mediterranean look that her mother had given to her years ago. As a small child, the girl remembered the care her mother had taken of the doll -- as though it was precious to her; irreplaceable. On the day that Sheila had given it to her daughter, the young girl had felt so proud to be entrusted with something that her mom so obviously treasured. The delicate tinkling of the bell around the doll's waist had lulled her to sleep countless times. Even now, although the child was nearly 15 years old, she never left home without it. She packed it carefully in her suitcase and made a last minute check.

"Okay, then," Hank smiled at her as he backed his head out the door, "Bring your bag down to the foyer when you have everything. We're leaving in a half hour, Ayesha."

* * *

"And . . . _presto_!"

The children who had gathered in the pediatrics ward of the hospital clapped excitedly as the ginger-haired man pulled a bouquet of flowers literally from the air. Some of the kids there were patients, some were brothers or sisters of patients, but all were happy and grateful for the distraction provided by the hospital's resident magician.

Dr. Preston Myers was a common fixture at the Citywide Community Hospital, although he did have a private practice across town. He was a general practitioner of pediatric medicine, but it had been a long time coming. Initially, he had wanted to go into research medicine, and had actually done so for a short time following med school. There was a time in his life when toiling over blood samples on slides in a secluded lab would have suited him just fine.

Since he was a teenager, Preston had had an aversion to people; mainly because he usually ended up being the butt of their jokes and ridicule. The perpetual "brain," he had skipped a grade in high school and ended up graduating two years younger than most of his peers, having, at the time, just turned 16. He was your classic nerd; or so it had been pointed out, rather cruelly at times. However, this all changed toward the end of his junior year -- because of some very special friends -- and afterwards, working in isolation wasn't as appealing anymore.

After spending enough time as a researcher, looking at the world through a microscope, Preston decided to go back to the land of the living. Back to where he could use science to make a difference . . . and use his other talents to make people happy. Whenever a patient's case brought him to the hospital, Dr. Presto, as he came to be called, would often spend time in the lounge of the pediatrics wing doing a little magic for the kids there. It was a far cry from the power he had once wielded, but common slight-of-hand was certainly enough to bring a smile to the face of a sick child.

Preston handed the bouquet to a little girl in a nearby wheelchair, and took his leave of the applauding children. He wouldn't be seeing them again for several days, taking some time off to attend his high school class reunion this weekend and, hopefully, reunite with some old friends during the coming week. As he grabbed his coat on his way out of the doctor's lounge, he felt a vibration on his hip. Preston's hand flew to his pager and he looked nervously at it.

He sighed with relief. It was Maggie, but there was no 9-1-1 code accompanying her page. There would have been if she were on her way to the hospital. Preston knew that Maggie wasn't due for another month, but he couldn't help but be excited, nervous, and jumpy at the idea of being a father again.

The Myers already had one daughter, Valerie. She was 13 and Preston's pride and joy, even though she had only been living with them for a little over a year. Maggie's job as a social worker often left her managing wards of the state, kids needing foster care. Preston remembered how Maggie had told him about little Valerie at the dinner table one night; and when she mentioned the girl's nickname, Preston had quietly asked to meet her.

. . . Varla.

Red hair, gray eyes . . . It was uncanny. Almost as though she was meant to come to them.

Child Services had had a difficult time finding placement for the girl. She had been bounced to several foster homes and, because of her age, was hardly ever a candidate for adoption. When Varla arrived at the Myers' house, Preston fell in love with her right away. Seven months later, he and Maggie were signing the papers that would make her a part of their family forever. Now, almost six months after that, the Myers were on the threshold of adding yet another blessing to their list of many. The only thing that could make Preston happier was seeing the friends that had started it all for him.

He picked up the pay phone near the hospital entrance and dialed his wife. "You beeped?" he asked as she answered the call.

"I just wanted to check and see if you had pulled yourself away from your adoring fans, Presto," Maggie teased. Presto smiled. She was one of the only ones who still called him that.

"I'm just leaving now," he replied. "The reunion starts at 7:00, right?"

"Right," she confirmed, "And Sheila called to say that she and Hank should be landing at 4:00. They'll meet us at the Belize Royale in time for cocktails."

"_Mocktails_ for you," Presto grinned. "Where's the princess?"

"She's going down the street for her sleepover at Lisa's, but she wanted to see you before she left. How soon can you get home?"

"I'll be there in five minutes."

Presto could feel Maggie smiling through the phone. "Now how are you going to do that? You're all the way across town!"

"Magic," Presto replied with a grin.

* * *

Eric Montgomery picked up the phone on the first ring. "_He_-llo!"

"Greetings, Eric!" the woman on the other end addressed him cheerfully.

"Hey, Cassie. What's up?" Eric asked.

"I'm just calling to let you know that you have a message."

Eric smiled. "You know you don't have to do that," he said. "I do have a secretary that takes my messages."

"You gave Angela the day off, remember?" Cassie replied. "And doesn't she prefer to be called an 'assistant?'"

"I won't tell if you won't," Eric said as he motioned for his driver to take the upcoming exit. He had originally been on his way home, but his father had just called from New York about ten minutes ago and asked him to check on something at the office. Eric had wanted to get that out of the way before tonight. Chances were good that he wouldn't be spending a lot of time working this week.

"Besides," Cassie continued, "This call wasn't into your office phone. This one came through on your private line."

"Oh," Eric responded as he clicked his pen closed and put it back into the inside breast pocket of his suit coat. Not a business call. He didn't get many of that type. "Who was it?"

"Your friend Sheila. She wanted to make sure you would be attending your reunion tonight and to remind you that she and her husband would be getting to the reception hall around 7:00."

The corners of Eric's mouth involuntarily curved upward. He was really looking forward to seeing them again. He glanced at his watch -- 3:30 now. He would allow himself an hour at the office. An hour and a half tops. That way, with the additional hour-long drive back home, he would have just enough time to get ready and meet them at the Belize Royale at 7:00. He cupped his hand over the mouthpiece of his cell phone and asked the driver to hurry. The sooner he got there, the sooner he could get back.

"Thanks, Cass," Eric said. "Home phone or not, taking my messages is not in your job description. I appreciate you relaying that one, though. I'll be home in time. By the way," he added, "Speaking of the job I pay you for, how's the big guy?"

"He's been eager to see you, Eric," Cassie replied.

"Put him on."

"Hey, Dad," a youthful voice was heard over the phone.

"Hi, John," Eric greeted the boy while balancing the cell phone on his shoulder so he could sift through his briefcase for the papers he would need upon arriving at the office. "How was school today, Son?"

"S'okay," John answered with a shrug. "Math sucks."

"It's supposed to, Son, it's math," Eric replied matter-of-factly as he located the folder he needed.

"Are you coming home now?"

_Ooohh_! Eric was afraid of that. He felt like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. John always seemed to manage to ask that question whenever Eric was at the farthest point away from home . . . and still headed in the opposite direction. To admit that he had to, in fact, go back to the office made him cringe. If he could think of a good excuse . . . .

_Waitaminnit!_ he thought as he straightened in his seat, **_I'm_**_ the parent here! Don't get all defensive, Eric! He's your son!_ "I can't, John," Eric admitted assertively. "Grandpa needs me to do a couple things here yet. I'll be home in a few hours."

"Okay," the boy said, his voice noticeably disappointed. "But remember you promised that you'd come to my hockey game tonight. At 8:00, remember?"

_Ouch!_ Another blow! Eric let out a cautious groan through his teeth as he remembered the hockey game. "John," he said as a gentle reminder, "You know I have that reunion tonight. Now, I did promise to come to a game, but you know it can't be this one. I'm guessing that Cassie told you that."

The boy grumbled an agreement.

"Come on, Sport," Eric said in a more cheerful voice, "There'll be others! And Cassie's gonna go and take pictures for me. You can give me a play-by-play when I see you tomorrow!"

John grumbled a muddled goodbye before handing the phone back to Cassie. "Take pictures," Eric instructed before the woman even announced her return to the phone, "Lots of pictures. Hell, I want to be able to make a flip-book with the photos you take! I wanna see everything! Got it?"

"Yes, Sir," Cassie responded. "He'll be okay."

"Of course he will," Eric confirmed. He then took his leave of Cassie and snapped the phone closed to end the call. He sat for a moment, brooding. He felt guilty for how busy he'd been lately. He remembered how tough it had been to not have his own father around as a kid. _Yeah_, he thought, _But you're doing all this **for** your son! He'll understand -- and you'll make it up to him. You always do!_

Eric's situation had been different. He, at least, had his mother while growing up. And he always felt that his father just didn't care enough to be around. While things were different between them now, it had still been very difficult to feel second best -- even though he later learned that it wasn't true. Eric himself, however, didn't have a choice. Ever since Denise died, he was the only one that John could look to. It was a little over 11 years that Eric had been a single parent, and trying to give his son everything placed him at work a good portion of the time.

But the boy did have Cassie. Eric had found a gold mine in her -- nanny and nurse! Cassie Masterson had absolutely adored John from the moment he was born. She had been the RN assigned to Eric's wife when Denise was rushed to the emergency room with acute abdominal pain one month before she was scheduled to deliver. Cassie had stayed with Denise when she was brought up to Obstetrics and remained by her side during the difficult delivery. She had also been the one to take care of the baby while the doctors attempted to resuscitate his mother following complications. She likewise had the unfortunate task of keeping a frantic Eric out of the delivery room during that time.

When Cassie brought John to Eric in what would have been his wife's room, the young man couldn't keep himself from crying uncontrollably as he held his son. Partly because he had lost the woman who had given this bundle to him, and partly because the tiny boy was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And Eric had seen his share of unforgettable things in his short lifetime.

Before Cassie could leave, Eric asked her something that was probably a reflex reaction to his grief and to his feeling of being suddenly alone. The idea of raising the baby without his wife had Eric so scared that he fell back on the instinct of using his money to solve his problems -- he offered Cassie a job. To most people, the offer would have seemed inconceivable. To leave her job at the hospital and take care of a baby full time? And this kid, proposing that she work for him, couldn't have been more than 23 or 24 years old. But this "kid" was insistent. He was also Harlan Montgomery's son . . . and his offer was more than generous.

Something about the woman had drawn Eric to her from the beginning. There was an almost familiar reassurance about her personality and even her blue eyes radiated a familial glow. Eric knew that a nanny would never take the place of a mother, but the baby boy needed someone. Eric also made up his mind that he would do everything in his power to see that John had anything he could ever want. And he was determined to do it better than his own father had done for him.

Eric scowled as he thought of the missed hockey game. He checked his watch. Maybe he wouldn't need to spend so much time at the office after all. If he could do what he had to do quickly and then get home, maybe he could see John for a little while before they both had to rush off to their respective destinations. Eric took out his pen again and clicked it open. He jotted something down on some of the papers he had retrieved from his briefcase. _This shouldn't take too long_, he thought as the car pulled in front of his father's building. _And I will make it up to him. I always do._

* * *

Robert O'Brien checked his watch again, then looked at Gate 7A. The status board said that the flight hadn't been delayed. So, where the hell were they? He exhaled forcefully, his lips creating an annoyed flutter, and reached for the overpriced magazine he had picked up at the airport's newsstand to pass the time. Sheila and Hank were lucky that her reunion fell during the same week as the university's spring break, or he wouldn't be free to waste this much time waiting for them.

Actually, he should still be there. The team did have practice today, conditioning for those students who opted to stay on campus during the week-long vacation. But Robert had taken a personal afternoon to pick up his sister and Hank at the airport. He knew Mom and Dad would have done it, but he had insisted. (Even though now he was eating his words. They were really late!) But he had missed seeing them and his niece, Ayesha, the last time they were in town because the team had had a tournament in Baltimore.

As a teenager, and even throughout college, if anyone had told Robert O'Brien that he would one day be an assistant baseball coach at a local university instead of the major leaguer that he had dreamed of being, he would have said they were crazy. Furthermore, if anyone had told him that he would end up loving the job, he would have probably laughed his head off. Yet, here he was, 26 and already worked his way up to a position as an assistant head coach of the very team he had played for in college. And despite the long days, mandatory practices, coach meetings that went to all hours, and seemingly endless road trips for away games, Robert loved what he was doing.

Of course it was a million miles from where he had seen himself ending up. Not too long ago, Robert was the star player that scouts salivate over. His batting average was nearly perfect. During the course of one game, he would be known to hit a home run at least 3 out of 5 times at bat -- with the other two usually setting a teammate up to score. In fact, there were supposed to have been several scouts attending the final games of his senior year. His shot at the minors (at least!) seemed imminent -- one more stepping stone toward his dream. If it wasn't for the surgery needed to repair some torn cartilage in his knee, it probably would have happened, too.

It had been an accident, really. And a perfectly preventable one, at that. Robert's girlfriend Teri had warned him about going to that party. He ignored it and chalked it up to simple worry. About 16 years ago, the young man would have listened to her every word as though it was the law that governed the universe. But over time, Teri's ability to dream future events faded. Sometimes things that she predicted would happen, and sometimes they wouldn't. But Robert never complained about the increasing normalcy. He had been without that for too long as a child. Having a girlfriend who fretted over him but couldn't quite explain why was normal enough for him.

Teri knew that Robert didn't drink, and he did say that he'd be careful. But he had also promised some of his buddies that he would put in an appearance at their frat house. So he did want to go. When Robert first arrived, one of his friend's fraternity brothers, a guy that Robert didn't even know that well, decided to surprise him with a welcoming tackle. When the beefy man jumped on his back, Robert could feel his knee pop and twist out from underneath him. The doctors said that the cartilage was torn and could be fixed, but that his rehabilitation period would last far beyond the end of baseball season. The scouts never got to see him play.

So when he accepted the job offered to him by his old coach following graduation, it was bittersweet. He was glad for the work and that he would still be involved with the sport that he loved; the sport that he had hoped would become his life. Unfortunately, he would never know what might have been. But now, upon attaining assistant head coach status four years later, Robert couldn't picture himself doing anything else. Well, maybe he could. And maybe that was why he was also attending the university again part time, trying to secure his Master's degree in health and physical education -- hoping to one day be a head coach and teacher in his own right.

"Uncle Bobby!"

Robert tried to force down the smile that was appearing on his face as he heard the voice of his niece from the gate exit. Any façade of annoyance that he had been trying to develop was fading away. He stood up and walked toward the gate to meet Sheila, Hank and Ayesha.

The girl ran to him for a hug. "Hi, Uncle Bobby!"

So it began! After all the hard work he had put in trying to get everyone to call him Robert, it was going to be "Bobby" again. Hank and his sister couldn't seem to call him anything else. And, of course, everyone else, knowing how he desired to have a more adult-sounding name, wouldn't be able to help themselves either -- even if it was just to irk him! The only people that he never seemed to mind calling him that were his girlfriend Teri and, of course, his niece. Bobby sighed, resigned. At least the guys on the team wouldn't be hearing this. If they started calling him "Coach Bobby" that would be his signal to leave town.

Bobby returned Ayesha's hug and planted a kiss on top of her head. "Hi, Honey," he said, "How was the flight?"

"Great!" Ayesha replied. She loved to fly. In fact, the girl loved just about anything that got her in the air. Brave and adventurous -- she reminded Bobby of himself sometimes.

"Here, I got you a magazine," Bobby said, giving her the book that he had picked up earlier. "It's got an article on those Backstreet Boys that you love so much."

Ayesha took the magazine. "Thanks," she said, looking at it. "This is 'N SYNC, Uncle Bobby."

Bobby shrugged. "What do I know? All those boy bands are the same to me anyway."

Ayesha raised her eyebrow. "You're kidding, right?" She then smiled again. "Well, I like both of them! Thanks, Uncle Bobby!" Ayesha got on her tiptoes to give Bobby another kiss as Sheila and Hank emerged from the gate.

Bobby held up his watch and said, in his best voice of aggravation, "You said 3:30!"

"Did I?" Sheila teased. "Well, Bobby, if I knew you would be on time for once I would have said 4:00!" She approached her brother and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a squeeze. "So good to see you!"

"Yeah, you, too," Bobby responded, the irritation that he had tried to maintain melting away at the joy of seeing his family again. He broke away from his sister and turned to her husband, hand outstretched. "Hey, Hank!"

Hank took Bobby's hand and pulled him into a hug. "How've you been, pal?"

Bobby gave Hank's arm a forceful pat of affection as he stepped out of the embrace. "Can't complain," he said. "The team may be going to another championship tournament this year."

"I'm not surprised," Hank responded, "With a pro like you showing them how it's done!"

"Nah," Bobby waved Hank away modestly, "We've got some real talent on that team. Nothing I can do can affect that." Bobby still took a moment to absorb and smile at the compliment before offering to help with their bags.

Hank and Shiela linked hands and followed Bobby toward the baggage claim. Bobby looked back at them. So that was what almost 16 years of marriage could look like. He remembered their wedding -- only a few months after Sheila had graduated from high school. There was a lot of mixed feelings about the young couple. Many believed that they were rushing into it; that they hadn't even known or dated each other long enough. But Bobby knew that they had spent more time loving each other than many married couples.

It was impossible to explain to anyone who wasn't there. To the outside world, Hank and Sheila's first date at the local amusement park had only lasted several hours -- a beautiful, warm Sunday in mid-April. But to them, and four other friends, that "day" extended into what felt like two, maybe three years of hardship, struggle, and, most importantly, growing. All of them had changed during that time. Some became braver while others learned the value of vulerability. Some became stronger while learning to accept and not condemn their weaknesses. And some fell in love.

Hank had been a rock for all of them. But as a result of needing to remain the strong leader, he had distanced himself from his growing feelings for Sheila. He hadn't wanted to show the girl any special treatment because her special skills were invaluable to the team and to their goal of reaching home. Still, it killed him every time he had to order her into danger.

After what had felt like an eternity, when they finally did reach home, Hank found himself confronted with the most difficult trial that he ever had to face. With all the bravery he had shown in the Realm, he felt reduced to a frightened child at the prospect of admitting how much he had come to care for this girl. But Sheila had been by his side non-stop since they first entered that crazy world and Hank was even more troubled by the idea of that coming to an end now that they were back were they belonged.

So, the two became inseparable during the final months of school that year and throughout Hank's first year at the university just outside town. So much so, that following Sheila's graduation, Hank asked her to marry him.

There was a lot of skepticism surrounding the union. Hank was still in school, and the first few years were certainly a struggle, especially with a newly arrived little one to care for. Even with the help given to them by their parents. But Sheila, in the wisdom that she seemed to have that was far beyond her years, was convinced that no matter what life served them it couldn't be more difficult than what they'd already had to face.

She had been right. In fact, a few years later, Hank's promising legal career actually turned into an even more promising professorship at the law school he had been attending. In accepting a teaching assistantship in history to help pay for his education, Hank discovered that he truly enjoyed teaching and eventually went for his doctorate in History Education instead of becoming the lawyer he had originally intended to be. His classes were usually the first to fill as his students enjoyed the charisma and passion with which he taught.

For her part, Sheila opted to be a stay-at-home mom, but that didn't stop her from taking classes at the community college near their new home. She found English and Literature to be her niche and, inspired by her young daughter, had begun writing children's books. She now had seven under her belt. They were by no means best sellers, yet, but the work kept her happy and fulfilled. Just like her family did.

When Bobby and Hank had finished packing the car, Sheila climbed into the back seat with Ayesha, leaving the front for the two men. Bobby sighed as he eased behind the wheel. "I sure envy you guys!" he said. "Be sure to tell everybody hello for me. You're gonna be having all kinds of reunions tonight!"

"Mom?" Ayesha asked, "Didn't you say this was your 15 year class reunion? I thought you graduated, like, longer ago than that!"

Sheila rolled her eyes with a mischiveous smile. "Why, thank you, Darling!" she said, "It's nice to know _someone_ is keeping track of my true age for me!" She then laughed and added, "Well, if _some_ members of the reunion committee had booked the reception hall in enough time, maybe we wouldn't have been over a year late!"

Hank laughed. "At least we're going," he said, "I would have hated to wait another five years, instead of just one, for another guaranteed get-together with the old gang." Then turning to Bobby, "I wish you could come, too, pal. I know the others would love to see you. I'm hoping we can all meet tomorrow."

Sheila raked her fingers through Ayesha's blonde hair as the girl flipped through her magazine. "I know I want them to see Ayesha," she said. "It's been a while since our daughter has seen the other members of our family."

* * *

Cocktails started at the Belize Royale promptly at 7:00, and Hank and Sheila were right on time, leaving Ayesha with Sheila's parents and Bobby for the evening. Sheila fumbled with the name tag she had been given while Hank went to get them each a red wine. They casually greeted old acquaintances, but continued to scan the crowd for the familiar faces that they were truly looking for.

It wasn't long before one found them.

"Hey there, Mr. and Mrs. 'No-We're-Not-Really-Attracted-To-Each-Other'!"

Hank and Sheila turned around to a familiar smirk. "Eric!" Sheila exclaimed delightedly as she stepped forward to embrace her old friend. Hank reached forward to grip Eric's hand before Sheila could even release him from their hug. "Hey, man! How have you been?"

The former Cavalier shrugged. "Good . . . Busy . . . Extremely busy . . . but good."

"Tell us how you've really been!" Sheila joked. "How's John?"

Eric whipped a photograph out of his wallet. "John's great!" he said. "He has a hockey game tonight. He's one of their high scorers! Right wing. How about your little girl?"

"She's not so little anymore," Hank said, "But it's been a while since you've seen her. She's almost 15." Sheila procured a picture from her purse as well. "She's perfect," the proud mother beamed.

Eric whistled at the photo. "Boy, she _has_ gotten to be quite the stunner! I can't believe she's in high school now! When did she grow up?" Eric shook his head and handed the picture back to Sheila. "Some kids grow up so fast," he repeated, more to himself.

"And some never grow up at all, right, Eric?" came a nasally, highly recognizable voice from behind them.

"Hey!" Eric returned as he spun around, "At least _I _don't perform card tricks for kids as part of my job description! Talk about not growing up!" He stretched out his hand. "How're you doing, Presto?"

Presto flashed a mock scowl at his best friend. "Well, you'd know if you ever returned my phone calls!" he said. "I mean, I _am_ right here in town, you know!"

"I know. I'm sorry. I just . . . ." Eric's words stopped abruptly as his eyes settled, rather indiscreetly, on Maggie who was removing her coat. She smiled at him and rubbed her very prominent stomach before turning to Presto and offering to get them both a drink.

"I'll have whatever you're having, Hon," Presto answered, giving his wife a kiss as she turned to leave. Upon facing Eric again, he saw that the dark-haired man had a very amused grin on his face.

"You _dog_!" Eric guffawed as he gave Presto a shot in the arm. "Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

"I did," Presto insisted as a light blush crept up into his cheeks, "Months ago in the Christmas card we sent you!"

"Ahhh," Eric mused as though it was all becoming clear, "That would have been _December_, right? Well, that explains it! I've only just dipped into late October in my backlog of mail! I won't get around to December for at least another couple weeks!" Eric then grinned broadly. "Congratulations, man," he said earnestly, catching Presto in a hug as Maggie approached with the drinks, "I'm really happy for you both!" Hank and Sheila echoed Eric's well-wishes and, after several more hugs all around, the group of friends settled into engrossed conversation.

"Oh, by the way!" Hank said, "Bobby says hello to everybody. I promised that we'd all try to get together for a little reunion of our _own_ special club! Maybe tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I think I can swing that," Eric said. Everyone else agreed. "So . . . ," he hesitated, "That just leaves one more . . . ."

"You guys weren't starting the party without me, were you?"

Diana.

The group turned to welcome the last to arrive. She stood behind them, arms crossed the way she always used to, a confident smile glowing on her face. She hadn't changed a bit. Aside from the fact that her hair was much shorter, cropped closer to her head, she looked exactly the same.

The young woman opened her arms to her friends for a big group hug. "Sorry I'm late, guys," she said, "My flight was delayed, traffic was torture, and I had to swing by my brother's house first to finish getting ready!" She pulled out of the hug and glowed at all of them again. "So, what'd I miss?" Her eyes momentarily focused on Eric and her wide smile softened a bit. "Hey."

"Hey," he responded quietly, "Uh -- Nothing! You didn't miss anything yet. We were just doing some family re-caps!" Eric craned his neck to look past her. "Where's that husband of yours?"

Diana's eyes found the floor, but her smile never lessened. "Cale is . . . ," she shrugged, "Still back home."

"Oh," Eric said apologetically, "Couldn't make it? Did he have to work or did you just need to loosen the apron strings and take a solo trip?"

Diana looked up again and Eric suddenly got the feeling he had said something terribly wrong. "This is an open bar, right?" Diana asked cheerfully as she backed away. "Can I interest anyone else as long as I'm up there?" Everyone shook their heads or motioned that they already had something. "Okay then," Diana said with a wink, "Be right back and we'll finish catching up. Don't start without me!"

As she left, Eric felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to face Sheila. "Was it something I said?" he asked with concern.

"You didn't know," Sheila replied gently. "Diana didn't tell many people yet. Cale left her . . . a couple months ago. They're finalizing the divorce."

"God," Eric said almost inwardly, "I knew I hadn't talked to her in a long time. A _long_ time -- but this . . . . I guess I figured Cale was at home . . . watching kids or something."

Sheila sighed. "Well, Eric, we think that might have been part of the problem. Diana seems to think that Cale left her because he couldn't handle the fact that she can't have children."

* * *

Diana placed some money in the bartender's tip jar as he set her white wine in front of her on the counter. As an afterthought, she decided to order another -- Southern Comfort on the rocks, Cale's favorite.

The two had only been married for about three years, the wedding being a few months before her thirtieth birthday. Before meeting Cale, Diana had worried that she would be a lifetime member of the lonely-hearts-club; having twice met a man that she thought to be her soul mate, and twice losing him to unavoidable circumstance.

First, there had been Kosar. Gentle, soft-spoken, brave, and beautiful in every way. Losing him to a prophesy that she didn't quite understand, an age-old destiny that she was forced to help him fulfill, was more than she could bear for a long time. Being told that he would always remember her wasn't comfort enough. Being told that she would know him again was worse. It was like the mirage of an oasis in an endless desert; something that Diana could never know to be truly real, yet dangled before her like a hopeful promise. It never occurred to her that "knowing" her love again meant in the embodiment of someone else. That came as a surprise -- but no more surprising than the form taken by her next "Kosar."

For as long as she had known him, Diana hadn't liked him. He was arrogant, pushy, narcissistic, and rude more often than not. But during their time in the Realm, Eric had become more than a better, more grown-up version of himself. In the beginning, there had been a great deal of bantering between he and Diana. In the _beginning_ . . . well, actually it had never stopped. But what started out as sarcastic verbal battles became lighthearted teasing, and finally, after a long while, affectionate friendship. The Cavalier had posed a challenge that Kosar never did. And he also had been the true friend to her that the Child of the Stargazer never got the chance to be. As time continued to progress in the Realm, the two became even closer . . . and Diana felt that she had found her "Kosar" again.

Unfortunately, things rarely go according to plan -- in this world or any other. Diana couldn't say exactly what it was that caused them to drift apart upon returning home. It was probably a mixture of bigotry and ignorance in general on the part of all involved. Her father had cautioned her against the problems facing interracial couples . . . and especially their children. Eric's father had kindly referred to it as "social pressure." Throw in the fact that no one could ever understand, or believe, what had happened in the Realm, and you had a growing strain that eventually took its toll on the couple.

They didn't speak much after that, although they did do their best to keep in touch, at first. She remembered how happy Eric had been for her when she made the Olympic gymnastics team going to LA. Conversely, it had been very difficult for Diana to hear about Eric's impending marriage, to the daughter of one of his father's business contacts, a few years later. And most of their correspondence ended after that. Reunions, like this one, were usually the only times that they saw each other.

She had met CaleVaughn through a friend after moving out to attend UCLA for a Masters in Physical Therapy. After her first run at the Olympics, and losing the gold to teammate Mary Lou Retton, she decided against waiting another four years to try again. Her heart just wasn't in the competition any more. Diana, the Acrobat, knew what she was capable of. She also felt more fulfilled helping other people, as she had during her time in the Realm, than by working to gain a shiny, gold piece of metal for herself.

She went to college and earned a degree in Kinesiology. Remembering how much she had loved the Los Angeles area while staying there during the Olympics, she then moved out to California with a former roommate to study to be a physical therapist specializing in sports medicine. Cale was a friend of a patient with whom Diana had grown close.

When she met him, Diana was stuck by the sharp contrast between Cale and herself. She being a combination of brains, confidence and fearlessness; he being the most grounded and domestic man she had ever known. In fact, when they got married Cale had looked forward to starting a family right away. Diana got more and more excited the more Cale talked about the huge family they were going to have.

It was like being trapped in a bad dream when the doctors said that that was impossible.

Diana was shattered at the news, and even though Cale stayed by her side through all the tests and fertility treatments, she could see the distress in his face every time she looked at him. The doctors gave them little cause to hope and offered little by way of an explanation for their situation. But somewhere inside, Diana knew.

Starfall.

In her dreams, even now, Diana could still feel the magic coursing through her as it had when she stood in the Temple of Light. Upon entering the pyramidal column of illumination, she had instantly felt the senation of being pulled in all directions by forces stronger than anything she had ever known. She could sense its power, both inside and out. Nothing else in the Realm even came close to that. Starfall was also the only thing that she had done alone, without the others. Everything else, they had faced together. And since, according to the doctors she had seen, there was no medical reason for her not being able to have children, a magical explaination was the only one she could think of. That, and the fact that none of her friends seemed to be having any inexplicable troubles, led Diana to feel that Starfall was the only possible reason. Unfortunately, this was not something that she could easily share with her husband.

Diana thought about the nagging fear of growing older that she had always had. When the only thing she ever wanted to be was a world-class athlete, the notion of aging was very scary. Now that the only thing she wanted to be was a mother, her body wouldn't allow her to progress. The universe was cruelly ironic sometimes.

She had suggested adoption, but was slowly discovering ways in which Cale was very much like her: he was stubborn and he was proud. Not being able to have his own kids, something that he had wanted desperately, was almost like a blow to his manhood -- even though it wasn't he who was the problem. He still took the situation very personally. During the last year of their marriage, Diana began to see evidence of Cale merely going through the motions of being her husband, all the while not seeming to even want to be married to her anymore. It was only a matter of time before he left.

Diana looked at the glass of Southern Comfort on the bar in front of her and took another sip of her wine. Now that she was home, she at least had friends that she loved and trusted. Friends that she could talk to about the things that were bothering her without worrying if they thought she was crazy. And then there was her older brother's family. Diana had always lavished loving attention on her nephew Toby, who was now 17. If she couldn't be a mother, a favorite aunt was the next best thing. She had toyed with the idea of moving back home for a while now. Maybe it was time.

She reached forward with her glass and _clinked_ it against the beverage on the counter with a wry smile. Then, finishing the last of her wine, she turned and left the bar to go back to her friends . . . leaving the glass of Southern Comfort behind.

* * *

Hank and Eric had found their way onto the balcony. "I had no idea," Eric said regretfully as he leaned on the railing.

"How could you?" Hank asked, placing a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "She didn't want it broadcast to everybody and--"

"Yeah, but Hank, damn it, I was her _friend_!" Eric interrupted. "There was a time when we used to tell each other everything! I should have been at her disposal if she needed me. It's not like I don't have the money to fly out to California to be there for her!"

"Well," Hank said, cautiously choosing his words, "You didn't call her when Denise died, buddy. We all heard about it from Presto. It's almost like you don't want to burden each other with your grief . . . given your history."

Eric shook his head. "I hate that that's all we have . . . 'history.' After all we've been through we should at least still be friends."

"You never did tell me why you two decided to call it quits," Hank prompted. "You seemed pretty tight after we left the Realm."

Eric shrugged. "It was nothing I could definitely put a label on," he said. "You remember how when we got back from the Realm it was the same night as when we left?" Hank nodded as Eric continued, "I guess it was just hard, you know. To grow and change so much . . . and then come back to a world that hadn't." Eric looked at his old friend with a smile. "It's a rare couple that can make that work!"

Hank smiled back. "Speaking of couples," he said, "Are you seeing anyone now?"

"Nah," Eric said dismissively, "I barely have time to spend on myself -- or my son for that matter. I tried for a while, but . . . ."

"Nothing like Denise," Hank concluded knowingly.

Eric shook his head. "Or Diana, for that matter," he added.

"Did I hear someone mention my name?"

Hank and Eric looked up to see Diana standing in the doorway to the balcony. Her glowing smile had returned. "Well, c'mon, boys!" she exclaimed as she stepped forward to link arms with both of them. "This is a party, right? If we want it to tide us over until the next time we see each other, we better start celebrating!" She led them back inside to where Sheila, Presto and Maggie were waiting.

* * *

Smoke.

There was smoke everywhere.

And flames.

The air was so hot and thick with smoke that it was difficult to think, much less breathe. The girl watched everything like a movie unfolding before her, but at the same time, it was like she was there. She coughed and took ragged breaths as the noxious fumes assaulted her lungs. Glancing to her right she saw a towering dark figure on horseback. The chaos around her didn't seem to touch him. In fact, he seemed to revel in it, gliding through the smoke and fire as though it were a gentle summer mist.

The girl's head whipped around as another figure appeared on her left. She couldn't see his face either, but he was soon followed by four other bodies stumbling through the charred surroundings. The people behind him had the stature of mere children.

The girl tried to scream as the being on the demonic horse raised his arms, both hands glowing with fiery energy. She could make no sound, no matter how hard she struggled. The only noise in the air was a wordless battle cry erupting from the lungs of the man on the ground as he raised a glowing club. Then, suddenly, everything exploded into fire.

"_BOBBY!_"

The raven-haired girl jerked awake with a tiny whimper, her head flying up from where it had been -- on a pillow in the lap of her boyfriend. She looked around wildly for a moment before her eyes settled on Bobby. _Oh, God, it had been so real!_

"Wakey wakey, Sleeping Beauty!" Bobby chided as he shoved another handful of popcorn into his mouth, "You two have practically missed the whole movie!" He motioned to Ayesha who had fallen asleep in the bean bag on the floor. Bobby had invited Teri over to watch a new release to pass the time until Sheila and Hank got home. Teri continued to look around the room. _So real!_

"I guess it's just as well," she could hear Bobby say. "'_Outstanding special effects_,' my foot! Did you see that dragon? That was the fakest looking thing I've ever . . . ." His voice trailed off as he looked at his girlfriend. "Ter, you okay?"

Teri didn't look at Bobby, but he could see that her blue eyes were wide with fear and that she was trembling as she stared at the floor. She swallowed hard as she tried to regulate her breathing, a cold sweat forming on her forehead. "Oh, God," Bobby whispered, hitting the mute button on the TV and turning to her with concern. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Teri locked eyes with Bobby, hers filled with a terror that sent chills down the young man's spine. "Worse," she breathed.

* * *

**Notes**: For anyone who may not know, _Kinesiology_ is a study of human muscle movement. It is a multidisciplinary science that is associated with fields such as athletic training, sports psychology, occupational therapy, physical education, exercise science, and physical therapy. (Hmm, sounds like a choice field for our Acrobat!)

**A** **Side Note:** In case anyone was wondering, _no_, I'm not all about prequels and sequels! They just happened to be the first two stories I posted here at . Also, people have been asking me when the next chapter of **_Advent_** is being posted. In truth, that one was actually never meant to be a multi-part story. (It sort of ends where the series picks up.) I have written, and do plan to release, several stories about the kids actually _in_ the Realm as dictated by the cannon of the show. I just like to do things a little out of order! VBG

I have always enjoyed being lost in the Realm, and do hope that all who read this story enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed writing it! All the best, and stay tuned for **Chapter 2: The Gathering**.


	2. The Gathering

**Disclaimer:  **Since its development in 1983, the animated series _Dungeons and Dragons_ has belonged to the following at some point:  Marvel Productions, TSR, Inc., Wizards of the Coast,  Saban Entertainment, (according to rumor) Disney, and possibly even others.  I guess my point is, it does not (nor has it ever) belonged to me.  Oh, well!  This story, however, does!  I hope you enjoy it!

**Rating:  ****PG_-_13 for some language and violent elements**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LEGACY  
Chapter 2 -- The Gathering 

"Cassie, I'm home!"

Eric found the woman on the back veranda finishing a cup of coffee.  "How did he do?"

Cassie looked up at Eric.  During the time she had worked for him, the woman had begun to see the father of the boy she had been hired to care for as a type of adopted son himself.   "He scored three goals," she said with a proud smile.  "Didn't he tell you?"

"He was asleep when I went in," Eric replied as he eased down into a chair beside Cassie, tugging his necktie open and undoing his top collar button.  "A hat trick," he mused, "Wow.  You got pictures, right?"

"I did."

Eric ran his hand through his hair.  "Thank you," he sighed, "I promise I'll make it up to him."

"I'm not the one you should be telling that," Cassie said frankly as she stared straight ahead and took another sip of her coffee.  Eric glared at her.  Most of his employees would fear for their jobs after making a remark like that.  (Behind Eric's back, much less to his face!)  Cassie Masterson was different, however.  For as much as Eric needed her services, he needed her honesty more . . . even though he didn't always ask for it.  When he made no verbal response, Cassie continued.  "You work too hard, Eric."

"I explained to him about the reunion."

"That's different.  And you know I'm not talking about tonight.  Tonight wasn't work -- not all of tonight, anyway."

Eric sighed heavily.  "I do all that for him, you know.  Just like my father did.  So he can have anything he wants."

Cassie shifted her stout form in the chair so she could turn to face the young man beside her.  "You'll forgive my bluntness, Sir, but as a wise man once said: '_The words of the mouth often mask the truths of the heart_.'"

Eric gaped at her blankly with eyes that didn't blink for a long time.  "Come again?" he finally muttered.

It was Cassie's turn to sigh.  "In other words, '_That's a load of bunk_!'"  

Eric was speechless.  She was certainly on a roll tonight.  Then he shook his head.  "Did I ever tell you how much it creeps me out when you get all Confucius on me, Cass?" he grumbled, trying to change the subject.  "It reminds me of--"  He stopped.

"Reminds you of what?" the older woman pressed with an eyebrow arching high over one blue eye.

"Not 'what,' . . . _who_.  Never mind," Eric replied dismissively.  He didn't know what was worse:  His son's nanny being almost painfully straightforward, or those puzzling pearls of wisdom that she would interject on occasion -- almost like she had a fortune cookie collection that he didn't know about.  

_Riddles_.  If there was one thing that drove Eric crazy, it was riddles!

"All right then," Cassie announced as she tried to redirect the conversation back to the original topic.  "You are Eric Alexander Montgomery!" she reminded him, "If there's one thing you _have it's money!  And if there's one thing your son __doesn't need, it's something that money can buy!"  She paused for a moment and turned back to her coffee before adding, "Didn't you tell me that your biggest problem with your father was the fact that he was never around for you?"_

"That was different!" Eric said, defensively finding his voice.  "For a long time I didn't know whether or not my father even _liked me.  I tell John all the time that I love him!"_

"Eric," Cassie asked more gently, "In all the years I've worked here, how many times have I told you how much I love you?"

Eric groped for an answer, his mouth forming words that weren't coming to him yet as he struggled to think of a time.  "I . . . I don't know.  But I know you do.  I mean, why else would you put up with me?"  He flashed a charming smirk at her.

"My point exactly," Cassie replied with a wise smile, "It's not the words that matter, it's the knowing.  John has to _know, Eric.  You said that you and your father eventually came to an understanding.  But you were 17 years old -- almost a man -- that's a bit late for the childhood bonds to take root.  Don't let it be too late for you and John.  I know you want to stay close with your own father now, but maybe the hours you put into your job are too much.  Don't sacrifice your family for work.  John's the only thing that really matters."_

That was a cutting blow, especially since Eric knew she was right.  The boy was his last link to Denise.  The most important thing in his life, in fact.  But Eric was, and always had been, stubborn.  The invisible shield that he used to defend himself remained raised, even now, long after he had put down the shield of the Cavalier.  He rose off his chair with an aggravated shake of his head.  "What do you want from me, Cass?" he asked.  "I have responsibilities -- responsibilities that it took me a long time to learn about.  And John's not my only one!  I wish he was, but he's not!  It's not like somebody can just drop their job on a whim!"  He turned and left the veranda to head for bed.

Cassie continued to stare straight ahead as she sipped on the last of her coffee.  "I did," she said in quiet response to Eric's last statement.

*          *          *

"They _what?"  _

Sheila rushed turbulently throughout the house searching for her parents while Bobby fumbled along behind her explaining, again, that they had already gone.  "I told you, they left early this morning," he insisted.  "They were so happy to have you home that they didn't want to wake you.  Me, however," he grumbled ruefully, "They got up at the crack of dawn!"

"They were so happy to have us home that they _left?" Sheila wailed in dismay._

"Okay," Bobby groaned, "I'm supposed to tell you that they went upstate to some wine tasting thing that they like to go on, but . . . ."  He paused as though deciding whether or not to actually tell her, "They really went to pick up Aunt Margie."

Some joy mixed with the frustration still present on Sheila's face.  Margie was her favorite aunt -- her great-aunt, actually.  The woman lived a good four hours away and, although she desperately loved Sheila and her family, refused to patronize any form of public transportation in order to visit them.  She said they made her nervous.  The only time Sheila ever got to see her was when the family drove out there.  

"It was supposed to be a surprise," Bobby said.  "They're bringing her back here to see you and Ayesha.  But they won't be home until late tonight."

Sheila's face softened as she sank into a chair.  She was thrilled to be seeing even more of her family, but now that put a damper on their plans for the afternoon.  At the reunion last night, the whole gang had made plans to meet for the day to do even more catching up; away from the pull of other classmates and former acquaintances.  It was also so Bobby could join them this time.  Sheila had been counting on her parents to watch Ayesha.

"Mom!" the girl pleaded, "I'm almost 15 years old and I baby-sit all the time back home!  I think I can watch myself for an afternoon!"

Sheila gave a thoughtful groan.  She knew this was true, but she still worried.  That was a trait that she never seemed to grow out of.  Especially since Ayesha wasn't as familiar with this city.  "I think she'll be okay," Bobby advised quietly as he nudged his sister.  "Remember you were only a little older than her when you were out saving the world!"  Sheila shot a glare in her brother's direction.  This was different.  This was her little girl.  But Bobby did have a point.

"Look," Bobby offered as he took Sheila aside, "If it will make you feel better, I'll watch her for a while.  I'll take her for an ice cream or something.  Then, when Teri gets out of work, I'll leave the two of them together for some girl time.  They can go to the mall, whatever -- Ayesha will never know she's being chaperoned!"

Sheila thought for a moment.  "Are you sure, Bobby?  I wouldn't want you to miss out on seeing everyone again!"

Bobby waved her off.  "Hey, I'll meet up with you later after Ayesha and I find Teri.  Don't worry!  I wouldn't miss this for the world!"

Sheila gave her brother a kiss before heading upstairs to get ready and to tell Hank the plan.  "Thanks, Bobby!  We'll see you later, then!"

*          *          *

Diana was the first to arrive this time.  Eric knew some people who owned a restaurant downtown and the six friends had decided to gather there on the afternoon following the reunion.  Diana was shown into a posh back room reserved for the "Montgomery Party" and she walked around admiring the elaborate décor.  Looking up, she noticed a detailed mosaic on the ceiling.  It was a scene of the sky, a brightly-colored sunset melding into a twilight nightscape.  As the scene darkened into night, the tiles of the mosaic began to break apart until they were sporadically distributed across the rest of the ceiling.

"Pretty, isn't it?"

Diana nodded before turning around to face Eric, who had silently entered the room.  "It's very different," she said with a smile.  "Where did your friends buy it?  Or was it designed for them?"

Eric made a few paces through the room to stand next to her, joining Diana in staring at the ceiling.  "Actually," he admitted, "They rescued it.  From the old Havenford Hotel before it was torn down.  Most of the mosaic was damaged or broken because the hotel had been condemned for years.  But they collected the pieces that were intact and had them installed here."

Diana smirked.  "I guess you _can still get some nice things for free!" she mused.  " I really like how some of the tiles are scattered.  It looks intentionally unfinished.  It's different," she repeated._

"Diana?" Eric said cautiously, turning to face her, "I'm really sorry.  I wish I had known . . . about what you were going through.  I know we kinda grew apart there for a while, but I hope you know that if you ever need anything . . . ."

Diana looked at him, her smile sad but bright.  "Thanks," she said, "Same to you."  She stepped forward and put her arms around him, and the two old friends hugged for a good long time.

"Ahem!" came a voice from the doorway as Presto announced his arrival, "Is this a private party, or can anybody join?"

"Hey!" Eric exclaimed, "It's the magician I hired!"

Eric and Diana walked to the entrance to greet Presto, who was followed closely by Hank and Sheila.  Everyone was just as excited to see each other now as they had been last night.  Eric looked past Sheila into the hallway beyond the private room.  "Where's the twerp?" he asked with a broad smile.

"Careful, Eric," Sheila said slyly, "Bobby's not as short as he used to be!  And he still packs just as big a punch as he did before!"  She gave him a wink before adding, "He'll be here a little later.  He's out with Ayesha until Teri can take over."

"Still worried about the little ones running off on their own, huh, Sheila?" Eric teased.  Then shrugged.  "That's okay `cause my son's out with _his nanny, too!"_

"Ooohh!" Diana warned jokingly, "I'm gonna tell Bobby the Barbarian you called him a 'nanny!'"

"Yeah," Presto agreed, "They're calling them 'child care engineers' now!"

"You know," Hank said a little later as they all sat down to eat, "We should arrange a day this week for our families to get together.  I, for one, would love to see everybody's kids again!"  He put an arm around his wife's shoulders.

"We can do it at my house," Presto offered, "Dinner.  Lately, Maggie makes much more than the three of us can eat."

"`Course she's eating for two!" Eric jibed.

"Anyway," Presto continued with a roll of his eyes, "I don't know if it's some kind of nesting instinct or what, but she's been making enough food to feed an entire Orc army!"

"That sounds great, Presto!" Hank said, "And we'll all finally get to meet Varla!"

"Did you ever tell Maggie why you felt such a connection to Varla?" Eric asked as he went to take a bite.

"Of course I did," was Presto's nonchalant reply.

Eric stopped the fork halfway to his mouth and glared at Presto.  He had been kidding.  "Are you serious?" he asked.

"Yeah," Presto answered with a shrug, "We're married."

"You told her about _the Varla? . . . And the Realm? . . . Everything?" Eric prodded, "And she __believed you?"_

Presto looked around at all of them.  "Yeah," he answered, "Every word."  He smiled devilishly.  "She even made a replica of my old uniform.  She _really likes it!"_

"Aw, MAN!" was all Eric could say.

Diana could only smile at her long-time friend.  "I'm so happy for you, Presto," she said.  "After everything you had to put up with in high school, to have found someone who truly understands who you are is just wonderful!"  She raised her glass to him, and then to Hank and Sheila.  "I only hope we can all be as lucky some day!"

*          *          *

"What's that, Uncle Bobby?"

Bobby followed his niece's finger in the direction of the bustle across the street.  "That's the amusement park," he replied with equal parts disinterest and what sounded to be warning.  He then tried to guide Ayesha in the direction of the ice cream parlor.  Teri should be finished with work any time now and she was supposed to be meeting them there.  

The teenager's interest, however, had been captured.  "Do they have roller coasters?" she asked, "How high does their highest one go?"  Bobby grinned in spite of himself.  She really did remind him of himself as a child; bold, fearless and excited about everything.

"I haven't been in there since I was a kid, Hon," Bobby replied.  "It's a rinky-dink local place.  Not nearly adventurous enough for you!" he added with a wink.  This seemed to appease the girl for a while.

When they got inside the ice cream parlor, Teri was already there.  "Tell you what," Bobby said as he handed Ayesha several bills from his wallet and ushered her in the direction of the counter, "Get whatever you want.  And get Teri and me a peanut butter milkshake.  You can keep the rest for your shopping trip."  Ayesha beamed as she strolled toward the bins.

Bobby sat down across from Teri at a booth in the front window.  "How are you doing today?" he asked her.

"I was a wreck at work," Teri admitted.  "My boss could tell there was something wrong, so I avoided him as much as possible."  She pressed her fingertips into her furrowed brow.  "I haven't had one of those in so long, I almost forgot how scary they can be."

Bobby shook his head.  "You don't know that it was anything," he said reassuringly.  "You said yourself you haven't had one in years.  Maybe it was just a nightmare."

Teri's eyes bore through him.  "Nightmares you can forget," she said.  "I remember every detail.  How it felt, what I saw, even how it smelled.  It was so real, Bobby.  And it's got me scared to death.  If you have to go back--"

"Hold it right there!" Bobby cut her off.  He took her hands firmly from across the table.  "Nobody's going anywhere!  Not today!  Not ever!  And especially not _there!  Now, come on.  You haven't had a true dream of the future for almost 16 years!"_

Teri nodded her concession, but added, "I haven't had a dream like that since after you came back from the Realm.  Maybe if I'm having them again that means--"

Teri's words stopped as a large styrofoam cup was placed between them.  "Your shake!" Ayesha announced with a mischievous grin, "And two straws!" 

Bobby looked up at her.  "What did you get?" he asked lamely, surveying her empty hands.

"I haven't decided yet," the girl shrugged, her voice a playful sing-song.  "I'll be back, you two!  And don't worry, I'll take my time!"

When she reached the counter again, Ayesha kept glancing over at her uncle and Teri.  They seemed engrossed in conversation and she wondered what it could be about.  She hadn't been able to hear any of it when she went over before.  _Whatever it is, it must be serious!  Maybe he was finally asking her to marry him!  Ever the romantic, like her mother, Ayesha giggled excitedly at the prospect -- and managed to accidentally scatter some of the change she had been jingling in her hand on the floor at her feet.  _

She bent down to pick it up and, in rising, bumped her head against something.  "Ouch!" she muttered as she rubbed the top of her head.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry!" a voice said from above her.  Ayesha looked up into the deepest, darkest eyes she had ever seen and was immediately struck dumb.  The chocolate-skinned young man in front of her didn't seem to be having the same problem, however.  "That'll teach me to put my elbows in the wrong place!"  He bent down to pick up the remainder of Ayesha's change.  He handed it to her with a smile.  (_God, his teeth were perfect!)  "I didn't knock something loose, did I?" he asked, trying to invoke a response._

Ayesha suddenly became aware of the fact that she hadn't said a word yet.  She felt her face get hot as she struggled to save herself from embarrassment.  "N-no," she replied with a nervous smile, "Thanks for picking these up for me."  She jingled the change again.

The boy turned back to the counter and accepted the ice cream he had ordered.  "I've got hers, too," he said to the vendor.  "What are you having?" he asked Ayesha.

"Oh, no, that's okay," she declined.

"Come on," the young man insisted, "It's the least I can do for nearly giving you a concussion!"

"No, really," Ayesha said, "I got money from my Uncle Bobby."  She cringed.  _Money from my Uncle Bobby?!?  What was she, five years old?_

Thankfully, the boy hadn't seemed to notice her maturity blunder.  He was now looking over at Bobby.  "I know that guy!" he exclaimed.  "He works at the university with my grandfather.  He coaches baseball, doesn't he?"

Ayesha nodded happily.  Sports.  Now that was something that guys loved to talk about, didn't they?  

"My grandfather teaches astronomy there," he said before turning back to her.  "What's your name, anyway?"

"Ayesha."  A suddenly shy smile.  "Ayesha Tennyson."

"Nice to meet you, Ayesha.  My name's T.J. Beckett, but most people call me Toby."  He reached forward to shake her hand.  "I think your family is good friends with my Aunt Di."  

Ayesha grinned excitedly.  She knew "Di."  Diana Beckett-Vaughn was her mother's best friend.  She took great delight in relaying that information to Toby.  "No kidding!" the boy exclaimed.  "Wow, small world!"  He looked back into the ice cream bins.  "Look, are you sure you don't want one, on me?" he asked.  "I'd be happy to buy you one before I go."

"Where are you going?" Ayesha asked, unconsciously sounding almost disappointed.

"I'm meeting some friends over at the park across the street," Toby replied.  "Hey!  You know if you don't have to hang with your uncle all day, you're welcome to join us!  I can swing you back to your house later!"

"Wow, that'd be great!" Ayesha exclaimed.  "Are you sure you wouldn't mind?"

"Nah!  The more the merrier!"

"Awesome!" Ayesha said.  "I mean, don't get me wrong.  I love my uncle, but it's nice to be able to hang out with people my own age!"

"How old are you?" Toby asked.

"Fifteen," Ayesha fibbed slightly.  It would be true . . . in a couple months.  "Let me just tell him I'm going."

Ayesha waved her arms in the air to get Bobby's attention.  He looked up from his intense conversation with Teri, but only shot Ayesha the occasional look between words to his girlfriend.  His niece made several hand gestures in the air: a spiraling circle, a point toward the door, a gesture toward the young man next to her.  Bobby gave a dismissive nod and a wave of his hand before turning back to his conversation with Teri.

"All set!" Ayesha announced as she shoved the money that Bobby had given to her into the pocket of her jeans.  She would rather spend that in the amusement park than on an ice cream any day.  Bobby had said that the park wouldn't be exciting enough for her, but she figured that that was just his way of saying he didn't feel like going.  Now that she had a friend to go with, he didn't have to worry.  _Besides, she thought as she and Toby left the ice cream parlor, __He and Teri look as though they want to be alone!_

*          *          *

". . . Teri, listen, I don't want to tell you that you're wrong.  But when your ability went away, it went away gradually.  If, for the sake of argument, it is coming back, maybe it's coming back the same way . . . Gradually!  On the first night, you don't actually think that--"

Teri had stopped listening to Bobby and had started looking around the ice cream shop.  "Bobby, where's Ayesha?"

"What do you mean '_Where's Ayesha?'  She's right--"  Bobby stopped to look around as well.  His niece was, indeed, gone.  "Where the hell . . . ?"_

"Bobby?" Teri asked frantically, "When did you last see her?"

Bobby tried to think.  "She was up at the counter with a kid who looked a little like Diana's nephew, then she gave me one of these . . . ."  Bobby mimicked the hand gestures that Ayesha had demonstrated earlier:  The spiraling circle, the point at the door, the motion toward the person next to her . . . .

"My God, Bobby!  She must have been asking to go to the park!  What did you say to her when she did that?"

"I nodded!" the young man admitted defensively.  "I didn't know what the hell she was asking me!  I don't know sign language!  What's this supposed to be, the international sign for roller coaster?"  (He again performed the spiraling circle.)  "I thought she wanted to order a swirly cone and eat it outside with that kid!"  Bobby and Teri locked eyes for a moment before simultaneously stumbling out of their booth, spilling their milkshake everywhere and making a mad dash for the door.

*          *          *

"This place is really cool!" Ayesha exclaimed as she looked around the park, "You're so lucky to be living in the same town that has one!"

"Yeah, it's pretty fun," Toby agreed, "It's usually where all the guys go to hang out.  It's kind of like our special place, you know.  It's been that way for a long time, too.  I know that my dad and my Aunt Di used to come here . . . probably even your folks too!"

"Wow," Ayesha mused, "To have a whole amusement park as your own place to hang out!  We get chased away from loitering in the Burger King too long in my town!  And the only time I get to go to an amusement park is if my class goes on a field trip."  She looked around at the surrounding attractions.  "So, when are your friends getting here?"

"Actually," Toby responded, glancing at his watch, "I have no idea.  There're four of them, but my buddy Bryan is also bringing his girlfriend.  Get the two of them together and you _know_ they'll be late!  That's why I was killing time in the ice cream place.  They not might even get here for a while.  We always end up playing 'hide and seek' on each other here because they're never on time and they're never where I'm supposed to meet them!  What do you say we look around and maybe try some rides while we're looking?"

"Sounds cool to me!"

The two walked through the many themed "lands" of the park, stopping in Fantasy Land so Ayesha could look at some of the souvenirs.  She found herself bumping hands with a girl who was admiring something on the same cart.  

"Ooops!  I'm sorry!" said the girl, who looked about a year or two younger than Ayesha. "Is this what you wanted?"  The girl handed her a small version of _Excalibur, which Ayesha guessed was probably a letter opener.  _

"Thanks," Ayesha responded as she inspected it.  She graciously attempted to reach whatever it was the other girl was going for.  She put her hand on several items before the girl nodded her head to the one she had been trying to reach.  It was a pointy magician's hat that looked as though it would only fit a doll.

"Thank you," the second girl said in return, "My mother thinks I'm riding the bumper cars, but I wanted to buy a gift for her new baby.  This park is the only place I know that sells things like this."  She held the green hat in her hands before giving it to the vendor to put in a bag for her.  "Magic's like a thing at our house," she further explained, "It seemed like a neat gift."

"Aw!  Your mom had a baby?" Ayesha questioned, "Boy or girl?"

"I don't know," the red-headed girl replied, "She hasn't actually had it yet.  So I have to choose a color that would fit both.  My name's Valerie, by the way, but everybody calls me Varla."

"I'm Ayesha.  And this is Toby."

Toby looked at Varla with a hint of recognition.  "Aren't you in the junior high at my school?  I thought I recognized you.  You were new this year, weren't you?"

"Yeah," Varla said, "I only started living here a little over a year ago, and . . . oh, shoot!"  Varla ducked behind Ayesha and Toby, clutching her bag.  

"What's wrong?" Ayesha whispered down at her.

"That's Mag-- . . . well, . . . my _mother_!" Varla whispered back.

"Where?" Ayesha asked, scanning the crowd.  Almost a minute later, a very pregnant Maggie Myers stepped out of the ladies' restroom.  Ayesha was curious as to how the girl knew Maggie was there before the woman even appeared.  "She thinks I'm on the bumper cars in another section of the park!" Varla continued.

"I can see why she wouldn't want to join you on that ride!" Toby joked.

"Do you mind if I lay low here for a few minutes?" Varla asked.  "I kinda wanted this hat to be a surprise."

Toby shrugged, indicating that it was okay with him, and even helped the espionage along by sidestepping across the town square of Fantasy Land, keeping Varla behind his back until Maggie was out of sight.  As he turned to announce that the coast was clear, he stumbled into someone else.

"Hey!  Watch it!"

"Sorry," Toby laughed, "I seem to be running into everybody today!"  He turned to face the scowl of a young boy.  The kid had dark brown hair and stood in front of Toby, arms crossed, with a haughty expression on his face.  For as young as he was, not more than 11 or 12, the boy's demeanor gave the impression that he owned the whole place.  

"For future reference," the kid said, "Walking involves one foot in front of the other.  And the chances of tripping are smaller if you actually _look where you're going!"_

"Sor-r_eee!" Toby repeated, a bit more sarcastically.  Who did this kid think he was anyway?_

"Hey, John," a voice said from behind Toby.

"Hey, Varla," John greeted her in reply, "You might want to stay away from this guy or you might get stepped on!  Oooh, wait!  There's a thought!" he further mused aloud, "If you were to ever break something who would take care of you?  Your father the doctor or your father the magician?"

Ayesha beamed, ignoring John.  _Magician.  "__Omigod!  I thought that woman looked familiar!" she exclaimed to Varla.  "You're Presto and Maggie's daughter!"_

Toby, on the other hand, wasn't as enthused by John's comment.  "Look!" he said.  He had instantly had about enough of this arrogant kid.

"He's okay," Varla said softly, placing a hand on Toby's arm.  "His dad and my dad are, like, best friends."

Toby didn't care if that was the case or not.  One more sarcastic word and this punk was getting an earful.  In the grand tradition of all Becketts, Toby wasn't afraid to tell it like it is.  "Listen," he said, trying to put his aggravation in check, "John, is it?"

"John Harlan Montgomery," the boy announced.

Toby smirked.  No wonder the kid acted like he owned the place!  He probably did!  "Listen, Young Master Montgomery," Toby jeered with mock reverence, "Why don't you . . . ."

"Hey, you guys!"  Ayesha tried to interrupt and settle things.  Like her father, she always tried to be the peacemaker.

"Why don't I what?  I don't have to do anything . . . ."

"Hey!  Come on, guys!"

"Give me a break, kid!"

"Hey, guys, look!  A _Dungeons and Dragons_ ride!"  In her attempt to end the pointless bickering, Ayesha had given up on trying to reason with the two boys and instead resorted to distracting them with a change of subject.  She called attention to the first thing her eyes settled upon -- a coaster that looked older than they were.

"Oh, please!  That old thing!" John groaned.

"Yeah," Toby agreed, "I don't even know why it's still here!"

Ayesha smiled.  At least she had gotten them to agree on something.  She decided to keep the momentum going.  "Oh, come on, boys!  It'll be fun!"  She grabbed Varla by the arm and took a few steps toward the coaster before turning back to the other two.  "Don't make us go on the antique alone!"

Toby shrugged.  "After you, Johnny Boy!"

*          *          *

Bobby and Teri met up in the center of Fantasy Land.  "I didn't see her anywhere," Bobby panted as though he had been running the whole way.  "Maybe they didn't . . . ."

"Hey, Uncle Bobby!"

Bobby's heart jumped into his throat as he spun around in the direction of his niece's voice.  He saw her tiny hand waving at him from a distance away as she and three other children were nearing the front of the line -- a line that Bobby knew all too well.  A nightmare that he had never forgotten.

In a flash, he was up and running; so quickly that Teri didn't even realize what was happening.  When she did, she sprinted after him, calling his name.

Bobby looked back over his shoulder.  "FIND HANK AND SHIELA!" he cried as he hurdled the railing that led to the line just as the four kids boarded the little red car.  He pushed past the ride's operator, whose mind didn't quite register what was happening at first.  No one had ever been so eager to get on this ride.

"_Bobby!" Teri screamed again as the roustabout came to his senses in enough time to prevent her from going any further.  "__BOBBY!"_

"Hey, pal!" the operator could only call out, "Get outta there!  The ride's movin'!"

Bobby sprinted alongside the moving coaster car, much to the shock of his niece.  The speed with which he moved was enough to impress, but the desperation in those movements was enough to frighten.  Her previous jovial smile melted into a grimace of panicked confusion as the young man took wide strides to reach the side of the car.  

Bobby raced neck-in-neck with the moving vehicle as it neared the dragon-mouthed tunnel, just as Eric had once done all those years ago . . . the time they had almost made it home for good.  Bobby made a jump for the back of the car just as it began to pick up speed.

"UNCLE BOBBY!"  

He could hear Ayesha scream as his body jarred against the rear bumper of the coaster.  His hands latched onto the back seats and he struggled to pull himself up and into the car.  For a split second, his mind toyed with the idea of simply letting go.  If he were to fall onto the tracks, the operator would have no choice but to stop the ride -- and that was exactly what Bobby wanted.  But if the old man wasn't fast enough to get to the controls, especially now that he was struggling with Teri, these kids would be on their own.

A few seconds later, Bobby's mind was made up for him as two sets of hands wrapped around his wrists and started to pull him into the rear of the coaster.  He used his own strength to lift himself up as he scrambled into the seat between Ayesha and Toby.  He could hear a young boy's voice calling from the front seat, "Are you _crazy?!"_

Bobby turned around to lock eyes with the ride's operator as the car entered the tunnel.  "Stop this thing!" he yelled even though he knew that, by now, it wouldn't do any good.  "STOP THIS THING RIGHT NOW!"

"_BOBBY, NO!" Teri screamed again as the coaster vanished into the gullet of the dragon.  After a second, she broke away from the grip of the roustabout and began running for the park exit._

Once inside the ride, everything was eerily familiar: the dragons, the Orcs, the fire-breathing pyrotechnics.  Bobby wrestled with his seatbelt.  "Everybody, hold on," he ordered.

"What is it, Uncle Bobby?" Ayesha asked.

"Yes, _Uncle __Bobby, O Jumper of Moving Vehicles!" John shot out sarcastically.  "If my father ever knew . . . !"_

Bobby, for as inappropriate as it was at the moment, couldn't help but roll his eyes at the fact that this _had to be Eric's kid._

Varla looked around from her spot beside John in the front.  "This is kinda neat," she ventured in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Oh, _please!" the young boy beside her groaned._

Bobby shuddered at the familiarity of it all -- like history repeating itself -- and yet, nothing else was happening.  Maybe Teri's dream _had been wrong.  Maybe there was nothing to worry about.  Maybe . . . ._

"Uncle Bobby?"  Ayesha's panicked voice broke through his thoughts.  "What's _happening?"_

Bobby glanced up to see the creatures ahead of them start to swirl into each other, creating the beginnings of a silver spinning vortex.  As the car progressed through the tunnel of light, an even brighter glow appeared at the end.  The coaster began to shake as it picked up speed, careening toward the blinding light.  Bobby could feel himself suddenly lifted out of his seat.

_. . . oh, shit . . . _

*          *          *

"I don't understand what happened to my brother," Sheila said as the five friends left the restaurant.  "I know he wanted to be here."

"Maybe he couldn't find his viking hat!" Eric offered, which prompted an elbow-jab in the ribs from Diana.  Just like old times!

"I'm going to call him," Sheila said, taking her in-case-of-emergency cell phone out of her purse.  "I hope everything's--"

"SHEILA!"

Sheila's eyes shot across the street at the sound of someone screaming her name.  The five looked to see Teri sprinting in their direction.  "_SHEILA!"_

As the girl spotted them, she willed her legs to pick up speed, not even looking as she neared the busy intersection.

"_Teri!" Hank cried as he, too, raced forward, "__Look out!"  The two collided in the middle of the street and Hank half scooped, half pushed Teri back onto the other side, out of range of the car she had run in front of.  They landed together in a heap on the grass.  Once the traffic was clear, Sheila and the others sped over to where they were.  Teri was crying._

"My God!" Sheila breathed desperately, "Teri, please, what happened!? Are you all right?"

Teri clung to Hank for dear life, sobbing, not only in sadness, but in terror.  "You have to help them!  Please, Sheila!  They're _gone!" she cried, "__He's gone!  I've lost him . . . again!"_

*          *          *

It was all just a bad dream.  It had to have been.  That's all it was.  Bobby's eyes opened slowly and he could see that he was still wearing his polo shirt and jeans.  The last time he had had on this god awful fur loincloth with leather straps.  But now he was still in his street clothes.  It had to be a dream.  Bobby groggily rolled over onto his back.  _Thank God!_

"Uncle _Bobby!"_

At the panicked sound of his niece's voice, Bobby's eyes flew open.  Upon fully regaining consciousness, his body immediately became sensitized to where he was lying.  He was on a hard, rocky ground and he could feel the gravel scrape across his arms as he struggled to lift himself.  As his eyes fully regained focus, they found the frightened face of Ayesha.  

The girl was seizing, shaking so badly that Bobby had to drag himself to her and clutch her tightly to control it.  He could hear her whimpers of hysteria in his ear as he held her to him.  "It's okay!  It's okay!" he said as soothingly as possible as he glanced around at the other children.  They weren't doing much better, but at least Toby was keeping his head and helping to keep everyone calm.

"Uncle Bobby?" Ayesha finally asked quietly, "Where _are we?"_

"_Where are we?!" John bellowed before Bobby could answer.  "I'll tell you where we are!  We're in the Twilight Zone!  That's where!"_

Toby placed a comforting hand on the young boy's shoulder.  "Calm down, okay, buddy!"

"Calm?" John growled.  "I'll get calm when I get answers!"  That was a line he had heard Eric use many times while on the phone in his office.  John turned to face the jagged walls of the canyon that surrounded them.  "Do you hear me?!?" he yelled to the air.  "DO YOU EVEN _KNOW WHO MY FATHER IS?"_

"Indeed, Young One.  I do."

Bobby's head turned slowly and his stomach twisted as he recognized the voice -- the deep reverb and the otherworldly echo.  He knew it too well.  He rose to his feet and instructed the others to get behind him.

"But, Bob--" Toby started.

"_I said get behind me!"  Bobby was not about to be argued with.  Not right now._

The silhouette of a towering figure appeared before them.  The intense brightness created by the four suns in the sky made it only possible to see his outline.  But somehow the children still recognized it . . . although they couldn't fully explain why.  Perhaps it was through stories told to them countless times by their families.  Stories that were told before bed.  Stories that they passed off as fairy tales.  Stories that, occasionally, kept them from sleeping due to figures like this one that would haunt their dreams.

Bobby knew this better than the rest of them.  He knew because, even now, he still had those nightmares.  He knew because he had lived through those so-called fairy tales.  He knew because they were real.  And now . . . they were back . . . in the Realm of Dungeons and Dragons.

Bobby could feel Ayesha's grip on his arm tighten as the figure came closer.  It stopped just a few yards short of them.  "Welcome back, . . . Barbarian," it said.

Bobby panted in fear shrouded by anger and pushed the four children farther behind him.  "What do you want from us, Venger?" he demanded.  This exchange frightened Ayesha even more.  They knew each other!  Uncle Bobby knew this . . . thing!

"Only to welcome you back," the figure replied.  "But the title with which you address me has gone unuttered for a very long time.  For the past two hundred years, to the inhabitants of the Realm, I have been known as . . . Dungeon Master."

*          *          *

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes:  **An extra, extra special "thank you" to Lain for those amazing pictures of the new "Dungeon Master!"  In case I haven't told you enough how much I love them, how about one more time:  **_I_** **_love_** **_them_**!!


	3. Doubleback

**Disclaimer:  **Since its development in 1983, the animated series _Dungeons and Dragons_ has belonged to the following at some point:  Marvel Productions, TSR, Inc., Wizards of the Coast,  Saban Entertainment, (according to rumor) Disney, and possibly even others.  I guess my point is, it does not (nor has it ever) belonged to me.  Oh, well!  This story, however, does!  I hope you enjoy it!

**Rating:  ****PG_-_13 for some language and violent elements**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LEGACY  
Chapter 3 -- Doubleback 

Bobby shielded his eyes in order to get a clearer look at the being in front of him and the children.  "_What did you say?"  His voice came out throaty and incredulous._

The creature once known as Venger smiled gently and Bobby recognized him as looking the way he had the last time he and his friends had seen him.  The young man recalled the final battle with the Archmage -- the journey to the abyss at Realm's Edge; the release of the Dark Lord's noble essence from the vault in which he had sealed it; the proposal offered by Dungeon Master which enabled them to choose whether or not to remain in the Realm; the final portal back to their home world.  The being standing before Bobby and the four children was unmistakably the Venger he remembered, yet without the horn, fangs, wings, and sinister countenance of evil.  He had a noble and regal look now, but the former Barbarian was still dubious.

Sensing this, Venger raised a reassuring hand to Bobby.  "Fear not, Barbarian, for I mean you no harm," he said, his voice familiarly deep and sonorous, but lacking the evil rumble of its past.  "I wish to welcome you back to the Realm.  You . . . and these new Young Ones."

"You leave them _out of this!" Bobby growled, his voice and his stare as hard as granite.  "Reformed or not, we don't want anything from you!  That includes your welcome!"_

Ayesha shrank behind her uncle.  Although this man addressing Bobby was not the horror she had originally expected, Bobby's reaction to him gave her little comfort.  From the looks of things, Varla, John, and Toby were just as nervous, although the latter was bravely holding his own beside Bobby.  Toby glared at the man, who was easily over seven feet tall, with a mixture of fright and curiosity.

Venger sighed.  "Perhaps, then, you would accept it from another.  One you recall with fonder memories."

Bobby sneered at Venger.  "The only thing I want is--"  His words halted at the sudden sound of a billowing snort above his shoulder.  Bobby turned his head, expecting to see Venger's sable Nightmare, its demonic red eyes burning into his as it had many times before.  What he saw instead was the body of an immaculately white mare, whose flame-colored mane and tail coruscated in the afternoon sunlight.  The four suns accented something else as well.  As the majestic beast turned her head downward to Bobby, his eye caught the glint of light reflecting off what looked to be polished ivory spiraling from the center of the mare's head.  

Ayesha's breath was taken away as she stared at the creature from legend . . . a unicorn.  But not just any unicorn.

"_Uni?" Bobby breathed in disbelief.  He reached out to touch the magnificent animal with trembling fingers.  Uni whinnied at him in joyous recognition; not the goat-like bleat of  years ago, but a majestic noise fitting her now regal appearance.  Bobby suddenly became ten years old again as he whooped for joy and threw his arms about her elegant neck.  "Uni!  Oh, my God!  I can't believe it's really you!"_

Uni nuzzled into Bobby as well, nickering excitedly and making it clear that her sentiments matched his exactly.

Then, just as quickly as he had euphorically greeted his former unicorn companion, Bobby turned back to Venger.  He removed his face from where it had been buried in Uni's fiery mane and stared coldly at the towering mage once more.  "I asked you a question," Bobby said, with more calm than before but still dully hostile.  "What do you want?"

Venger bowed his head submissively.  "I fear," he said, "That we are in need of your help once more."

Bobby stepped away from Uni, although his hands continued to stroke her snout.  He kept his eyes on Venger, but spoke to Ayesha and the others.  "Wait here," he said steadily as he took a step toward the former Archmage.  

"_Uncle Bobby?" Ayesha asked as a desperate plea for him not to go anywhere._

John was more straightforward.  "W-where do you think you're going!?!" he demanded nervously, applying a vice grip to Bobby's shirt as the young man tried to step away.  

"Don't worry," Bobby said as he got John to release his shirt, "You'll be safe with her."  He locked eyes with Uni.  "Watch them," he instructed her before turning again to the children.  "I'll be back.  I promise."  He passed his gaze over all of them, careful to make reassuring eye contact with each.  He then walked straight ahead, passing Venger without acknowledging him, and onward toward a corner of rocks.  Venger gave Uni and the children a gracious nod before following along behind Bobby.  The two vanished behind the jutting boulders.

Uni lowered her head and gently nuzzled Varla in the arm.  The girl reached up and cradled the unicorn's nose against her body.  Toby reached forward and placed a hand on John's shoulder.  The younger boy was too scared to brush it away.  Ayesha's trembling fingers found Uni's body and she stroked the animal's velvet coat for comfort.  A few worried tears slipped out of her eyes.

_Mom, Dad, where are you?_

*          *          *

Sheila's face was etched with fear.  She had sunk down into the grass beside Teri as the girl breathlessly explained what had happened in the park.  "How can you be sure?" was all that Sheila could manage after Teri had finished.

Teri seemed almost reluctant to answer that.  She swallowed hard before saying, "I dreamt it . . . last night."

Sheila's eyes widened in terror.  She grabbed the girl around the shoulders and seized her into a fierce hug.  Both women were shaking.  "Why didn't you tell us?" Sheila whispered into Teri's ear.

"I-I wasn't sure," Teri replied tearfully as she eased away from the girl who had become like a sister to her.  "Bobby tried to convince me . . . oh, _God, Bobby!"  Teri began to tremble again.  "I tried to help them!  I swear to you I tried!"  Hank placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, drawing his wife into his body with his other arm.  _

"Oh, Hank," Sheila sobbed, "That _place has our little girl!"_

Hank kissed the top of her head reassuringly.  "We'll get her back.  She'll be okay as long as Bobby's with her.  But we'll get them both back, I promise you, Sheila."

"There's more," Teri said gravely.

Eric ran his hand through his hair.  "What could be worse than Bobby and Ayesha stuck back in the damn Realm?"

The way Teri looked at him made his blood run cold, and he was immediately sorry that he asked.  She swallowed.  "Your son is with them."

"_What?" Eric said, his voice scarcely a breath._

"And your daughter and your nephew," she said to Presto and Diana in turn.  Diana reached out to grip Presto's shoulders; partly to support her friend and partly to keep her own knees from buckling.

"I saw it all in my dream," Teri continued remorsefully.  "I'm so sorry."

After several stupefied moments, Eric got up and whirled around, kicking hard into the ground and scattering the gravel beneath his feet with an infuriated scream.

"Eric!" Diana cried as she got up as well, grabbing him by the shoulders to try and calm him.  His eyes blazed at her.  "That won't help," she said gently.

"No," Eric conceded breathlessly, "But I know what will."  He reached into his inside breast pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

"Who are you calling, Eric?  The Marines?" Presto asked, trying to remain calm.  The others gathered around them.

"Better," Eric responded, "I'm calling Franklin, my driver.  We're all going to that park right now!"

*          *          *

Bobby turned and faced Venger wordlessly when he felt that he was far enough away from the others.  "Perhaps, Barbarian," Venger offered as he continued walking, "We should hold our discussion in the presence of your young comrades.  This concerns them as well."

Bobby's raised finger stopped Venger from advancing, as well as any other words the mage had planned on saying.  "No, no," Bobby warned, "This does _not concern them!  This has nothing to do with them!  Because you're sending them back __right now!"_

"I fear that is impossible," Venger replied flatly.  "But I believe you know that, don't you, Barbarian?"

Bobby pointed in the direction of the kids.  "They are _children for God's sake!" he growled._

Venger nodded resolutely.  "As were you, my son.  Younger in your case, if I recall."

"This is different," Bobby protested, "This is my niece!  Hank and Sheila's daughter!  Remember them, Venger?  Eric's kid is out there, too!  And Presto's!  And Diana's nephew!  These are _our children!"_

"Of this, I am very much aware," Venger confirmed, "Which is exactly why they were chosen.  They carry the essences of the Realm's former champions.  It is their destiny.  A legacy."

"Like hell it is!" Bobby snarled.  "Their destiny is back home!  Because that's where we _chose to go after we beat you!  That was our decision!  That doesn't mean that you and Dungeon Master can swoop down and take our families instead!  You want a 'champion' to do your dirty work?  Fine!  I'll stay!  But  __Send - Them - Back!  They're too young for this!"_

"There lies great strength in innocence," Venger told him.  "Purity of heart carries with it a power beyond mortal understanding."

"And thanks to you, we lost our innocence here, Venger," Bobby spat.  "We had to learn about death, and suffering, and being forced to do things we never asked for!"

"On the contrary, Barbarian," the towering man said, "You and your friends wielded a power that was stronger than most.  Your need to do what was righteous never died, nor did your desire to return home -- no matter how many obstacles were placed in your way, no matter how often your efforts met with failure.  It is because of that that you were victorious.  And it is because of that that you and these children have been summoned again."

Bobby scowled at the former Dark Lord briefly before shaking his head in frustration.  "Your father.  He's the one I wanna see.  I want to talk to Dungeon Master."

"As I have said," Venger reminded him, "I am the Dungeon Master now.  The former Dungeon Master is now on another celestial plane."

"You mean he's dead," Bobby ventured.

Venger shook his head solemnly.  "My words mean what they say, Barbarian.  He is in another stratum of the cosmos.  And for the past two hundred years I have been Dungeon Master of the Realm."

"That's impossible," Bobby scoffed, "We left this place over sixteen years ago.  You expect me to believe that _two hundred years have passed here?"_

"No, Barbarian," Venger replied, "A slightly greater amount of time than that has passed.  It has only been two hundred years since I have assumed the title of Dungeon Master.  You should be most familiar with the fact that time passes much more rapidly here than it does in your home world.  Did you not return there to the same day as your departure?"

"Yeah," Bobby admitted, "It was night, though.  Hours later.  The park was closed and Hank's and Diana's cars were the only ones left in the lot."  Bobby remembered the earful that he and his sister had received upon finally returning home.  The sound of their parents scolding them had to have been the sweetest sound they had ever heard.  Bobby recalled how his mother had checked his temperature when the boy graciously, even eagerly, accepted his punishment.  

Still angered intensely, Bobby thought about the children who were with him.  If he had anything to do with it, they were _going to get home!  And if following the directions of their new "Dungeon Master" was the only way . . . then so be it._

"Well then, Venger, or Dungeon Master, or whatever the hell your name is now, I just have one more question," Bobby said, "If you needed your 'Young Ones' back so bad, why didn't you just take the originals?  I mean the genuine articles are all together at a reunion celebration right now.  Why take their kids?  Or are we not innocent enough for you any more?"

Venger raised an amused eyebrow.  "You do not give yourself due credit," he replied.  "The reason you were chosen in the first place was because you all had a stronger power than most, as I have said.  Your power, and that of your friends, has remained strong through all these long years.  You come from a world devoid of magic and yet you have seen things that people of your home world would never believe.  You maintain your innocence because you maintain your ability to believe."

That hadn't answered his question.  "Okay, former Captain Hook-Head," Bobby conceded with an exasperated sigh, "Before we take the guided tour through Neverland, I want you to know that if anything happens to these kids, your 'noble essence' isn't going to be the only thing paying a visit to that sarcophagus at Realm's Edge!  You got that?" 

Venger regarded Bobby with a single nod.  "Are we ready, then?"

Bobby turned around to see the four children and Uni standing several feet away.  He sighed heavily at the notion that they hadn't listened to his instructions to remain behind, but, he supposed, _This does concern them after all._

Ayesha stepped forward and took his hand.  "I'm not afraid, Uncle Bobby," she whispered.  Bobby looked down at her.  She had Hank's wisdom and Sheila's quiet strength.  The young man smiled grimly in spite of himself.  Even though he was the one who had now, apparently, taken the Ranger's place as leader, he knew that it was Ayesha that was going to get him through this.  He squeezed her hand.

Venger's palm began to glow with a hazy red light.  Bobby couldn't help but stiffen a bit; a practiced habit, since Venger's magic used to hold such destructive properties.  He released Ayesha's hand and stepped forward, shooting a brief glance over to Toby.  An understanding passed between the two young men and Toby nodded.  If, somehow, this was a trick after all, Venger's final revenge, Bobby wanted to know that someone would get the others out.  Bobby squeezed his eyes shut as the new Dungeon Master released the energy toward him.  

Following a light tingling sensation that swept across his entire body, Bobby could sense the feeling of rough wood materializing in his hand.  He felt an almost comforting sensation, like a child with a security blanket, at the appearance of his old club in his palm.  Looking down at his clothes, he saw that he was now in his former barbarian garments, although modified slightly to accommodate for his larger stature.  He still wore a breechcloth of animal hides, but the bottoms extended a bit further down his leg, giving them the appearance of wooly boxers.  His pelted boots remained unchanged, as did the open vest of crisscrossed straps made from thick studded leather.  The viking hat worn by the young boy, however, had been replaced by a metal headdress, similar to the one Diana had worn but made of a heavier, silver-studded alloy.  

The club in his hand took on a humming glow as he lifted it to look at it.  The glowing intensified as Bobby gripped it tighter, a look of familiarity and sorrow on his face, and it died as he lowered it.  Ayesha couldn't believe her eyes.  The club reacted as though her uncle had spent a good part of his life wielding the weapon.

The Dungeon Master then turned to the remaining four children.  Toby took a step forward to stand next to Bobby.  "So what's the deal?" he asked tentatively, "What do we have to do to get back home?"

It was Varla, however, who spoke.  "We have to stop the new threat to the Realm.  A new evil force that has been created by the One that is as old as time itself."  The girl gasped at her own words and the others looked at her in fearful wonder.  "D-did I say that?" she stammered.

Venger smiled knowingly at her.  "Indeed you did, my child," he said, "Although I must confess that I somewhat aided the ability that is already innate within you by projecting my thoughts to you.  Your powers will take a bit longer to develop on their own."

"What's he _talking about?" John asked, turning to Varla._

The girl shrugged, her eyes still wide with disbelief.  "Everybody's always told me that I've been a little bit psychic," she replied.  "Sometimes I get a feeling when something's gonna happen."  Ayesha thought back to the park when Varla seemed to sense Maggie's presence before the woman even showed up.

"Do you bend spoons, too?" John snorted.

"_Jo-ohn," Toby and Bobby groaned in unison._

"It is a rare thing when one from your world is touched with magic," Venger continued to Varla.  "Your father knew this as well."

Varla paled slightly at the mention of Presto.  This creature knew him, too.  Things were starting to become frighteningly real.  "H-he's not my real father," Varla admitted.

"Nevertheless," Venger said, "People of power tend to find each other.  Whether the relation is by blood or not.  The Wizard can teach you many things," he added with a smile.  Varla didn't ask him what he meant by that.  He again raised a glowing hand.  "So I think, for you . . . ."

A soft light surrounded Varla.  When it faded, she was dressed in pretty, yet primitive, peasant clothing adorned with many colored scarves.  One scarf surrounded her head like a bandana, with ends that trailed down her back.  She had the overall look of a gypsy maiden.  

"Wow, look at you!" Ayesha said, cheerfully admiring the girl's new look.

"Yeah," John added, "In a couple years we might just see you on TV selling psychic advice for $2.95 a minute!"

Varla scowled briefly at him before looking at the object that had appeared in her hand.  It had the appearance of a crooked twig.  "What's this?" she asked.

"Your Weapon of Power, Mystic," Venger replied.  "Like the young Magician before you, as well as your Illusionist namesake, you have a natural ability that needs only to be tapped.  This magic wand will enable your powers to grow far greater than they ever would in your home world.  With practice, you may one day come to master it."

"Try it, Varla!" Ayesha coaxed.

Varla mulled the stick over in her hand.  It certainly didn't look like much.  In fact, it looked way too delicate to hold any great power.  She hesitantly pointed it at a nearby rock and the stick began to glow.  As the rock levitated slightly into the air, Varla gave a shuddering gasp, causing it to fall to the earth once more.  "Confidence in one's own abilities has much to do with it," Venger told her.  "Practice.  It will come."

"So what's this 'threat' that we have to fight in order to get home?" Toby asked.

"All things will be explained in due time," the new Dungeon Master assured him.  "First, you must be properly equipped.  However, if you are eager to be a 'Fighter' . . . ."

The luminescence surrounded Toby next.  When it died the young man was dressed head to foot in indigo leather.  His pants were tucked into high boots of the same color and his tunic was dotted with metallic studs like Bobby's.  His arms were bare except for a set of metal armbands that started at his wrists and ended just before his elbows.  His hands were each wrapped with a cestus, a network of leather straps lightly laden with metal.  Wreathed at his side was a black whip with weighted balls on the end.

"Purple," John mused as he studied the older teen's clothing with a taunting smirk, "Snazzy."

Toby raised an eyebrow at him as though the boy's comment wasn't worth a reaction.  He then turned his attention back toward the whip.  "Let me guess," he said, removing it from his belt, "This is _my weapon!"_

He uncoiled the lash and motioned for everyone to stand back.  When they did, he wound back and released the whip with a snap, the resounding crack echoing forcefully throughout the canyon around them.  "_Sweet!" the young man breathed, like a kid at Christmas._

"That is not all it does, Fighter," Venger announced casting his eyes upward to where a thick tree branch was jutting out of the canyon wall high above their heads.

Toby looked from it back to his weapon.  "Isn't that a little out of range?" he asked.

A corner of Venger's mouth curved upward and he motioned back to the branch with an encouraging tilt of his head.

"Okay," Toby shrugged as he wound back to take aim at the branch.  As he released the whip, the weapon seemed to extend far beyond its natural length until it reached its target, then wrapped around the branch and pulled Toby off the ground toward it.  "Whoa!" the young man yelped as he was unexpectedly yanked off his feet.  The next place he found himself was atop the branch, his whip wound once again at his side.  "That - was - _awesome!" the boy laughed.  "It's like a grappling hook, too!"  He looked around.  "Now how do I get down?"_

"The same way you got up," Venger's voice carried up to him.

Toby released his weapon from his hip once again to see that it had grown much shorter; perfect for the short distance between him and the perch on which he sat.  As the whip surrounded the branch, it grew in length, enabling Toby to lower himself gently to the ground.  

"That was pretty good," John said amusedly, "But shouldn't you be wearing khakis and a fedora hat for that kind of work?"  He snorted at his own joke.

"_Jo-ohn," came an aggravated groan from the others._

"These weapons that you are receiving will obey your mental commands," the Dungeon Master informed them as Toby returned his whip to his belt.  "They are in tune with your minds and can do your bidding and react to your emotional needs -- provided you have the strength of will to control them."

"So what do I get?" John asked impatiently.

Venger scrutinized the boy momentarily before raising his hand again.  When the glow surrounding John subsided, he was dressed in beige tights tucked into simple leather boots.  Over his upper body was a red short-sleeved tabard -- a heavy, loose, jacket-like overshirt blazoned with what Bobby noticed to be a familiar coat of arms -- a golden shield with the head of a griffin.  Around his waist was a loose belt with an empty sheath.  John put his hand to it.  "Um, isn't this where my magical flaming sword makes its appearance?"

Venger grinned knowingly.  "That scabbard holds a weapon that is not for you, Squire," he said, "But it will make itself available when it is needed."  Bobby couldn't help but smirk.  The new Dungeon Master was just as cryptic as the old one had ever been.

"You've gotta be _kidding!" John wailed.  "You mean I don't get a weapon?"_

"Indeed you do, Squire," Venger replied.  "It is around your neck."

John looked down to see a golden medallion about his neck, crested with the same griffin-faced image as the one on his tabard.  "What does this thing do?" the boy asked disappointedly.

In an instant, Venger's eyes blazed crimson, reminiscent of the evil being he had once been.  His hands began to glow with violent energy.  Bobby sprang forward, club raised, but not in enough time to prevent the explosion of power from cascading toward John.  The boy squeezed his eyes shut and emitted a petrified wail as the light struck him.  

Or, rather, the energy field that was now surrounding him.  The boy peeked one eye open to see the electric current crackling and dissipating from the invisible shield, generated by the medallion, that had saved his life.  John was speechless and could only utter a high pitched whimper that was a mixture of fear and awe.

Venger's face softened after the demonstration had ceased.  He turned to the others only to find Bobby's brandished weapon mere inches from his face.  "_Don't . . . do that again!" the Barbarian warned the former Dark Lord._

Venger gave a nod of compliance and finally turned to Ayesha.  The girl swallowed hard in nervous anticipation of what was now in store for her.  "There is great power in you," Venger told her.  "You hold the noble spirits of three of the Realm's former champions -- not only the Ranger and the Thief, but the Barbarian as well.  You may not sense it yet, but you have the potential to be a formidable warrior."

"Um," Ayesha politely stopped him, "I don't know if being a warrior is . . . quite . . . ."

"I understand," Venger smiled.  "In addition to the wisdom of your father and the strength of your uncle, you have your mother's gentle spirit.  You will find that you have more power than you realize.  But if the ferocity of a warrior is not for you, then, perhaps . . . ."

The halo of light surrounded Ayesha and, as it dissipated, left her wearing a form-fitting bodysuit of mail, knee-high red boots and a matching cloak draped across her shoulders.  Across her brow was a silvery headdress, accented by a red stone in the center with strips of metal extending down either side of her face and curving slightly along her jaw line.  On her arms were matching metal wristlets and at her waist, a belt holding the bladeless hilt of a sword.

". . . a Paladin," Venger concluded with a satisfied smile.

The girl removed the hilt from its clasp at her waist and held it out in front of her.  "What does it do?" she asked cautiously.

"What you command it to do," was Venger's cryptic reply.

Ayesha concentrated on the handle in her grip and a blade of what looked to be pure golden energy blazed forth from its center.  To look at it, Bobby thought that it resembled a broadsword version of what Hank's arrows used to look like.  Ayesha gasped as she gazed at it.  Then, just as Hank had seemed to instantly know how to use his bow, his daughter pointed the blade at some nearby rocks and willed out a humming discharge that sent the nearest boulder shattering to pieces.  She gasped a second time as the sword evaporated into nothingness and became dormant once again.

"Something's wrong here," John huffed, "Even this chick gets to have a weapon that kicks butt and _I have to be a Squire!"_

"Looks like, for once, someone else is large and in charge, eh, Squire Johnny Montgomery?" Toby teased.

"The only thing large around here is _that guy," John mumbled, indicating Venger, "And the way this stupid overshirt fits!"  The boy pulled and fidgeted with his tunic as he glared at Ayesha.  "And I think she got the flaming sword I was supposed to have!  (__There's no way I'm gonna be **her squire!)" he added under his breath, narrowing his eyes at the Paladin.**_

"All of your weapons possess great strength," Venger said addressing all of them.  "You will discover that they have many uses, limited only by your own will and heart."

Uni, who had remained off to the side until now, finally approached and nuzzled Bobby.  He stroked her face and neck affectionately.  She whinnied again, a noise that was more like a song than the bray of a horse, and looked at the new Dungeon Master.  He grinned knowingly.  "It seems that my steed requests to journey with you on your quest."  He nodded approvingly at her.  "As you wish," he said to the unicorn.

Bobby had a hard time imagining Uni as the steed of the creature that used to be Venger, but somewhere deep inside he knew that if Uni could find it in her heart to forgive the former Dark Lord, then he could, too . . . with the proper effort.  He turned from her to the towering mage and said, "And what might that quest be?"

"Very well," Venger announced with some authority, "If you are ready, my Young Ones, I shall charge you with your task . . . ."

*          *          *

Eric stared at the _Dungeons and Dragons_ ride for what felt like a very long time.  Never in a million years did he think he would be here again.  As a teenager, for what felt like years, he had wanted nothing more than to get out of that crazy place, and now here he was, impatiently waiting for Hank and Sheila to return so he could get the hell back in.  He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," Diana said, almost hesitantly, "Are you having second thoughts?"

He turned and glared at her.  She had to be kidding!  But he couldn't fault her for asking.  He was, after all, the one who had been the most verbal about his desire to go home the last time.  Eric shook his head.  "The only thing I'm thinking about is how, when we get there, I'm gonna throttle that riddle-blabbing pipsqueak who calls himself Dun--"

"Eric!"

Eric turned around in shock to face his son's nanny.  "Cass?"  

The woman's smile spread from ear to ear, her blue eyes twinkling.  "Well, I'll be!" she exclaimed.  "Why didn't you tell me you were planning on coming?!  John will be thrilled!  What a surprise!"

"Where is he?" Eric asked, trying to hide his desperation.  "He's here, right?  Tell me he's here!"

"Of course he's here," Cassie answered, developing some confusion on her face as she looked from Eric to Diana and back again.  "He was meeting some teammates from hockey.  I let him go because he didn't want his nanny tagging along while he was with his friends.  We arranged to meet here to check in."  She smiled again.  "He'll be so happy to see you!  He'll probably ditch his friends!"

"Have you seen him since around 2:00?" Eric asked.  That was the time Teri had arrived outside the restaurant.

"No," Cassie replied, "Why?"

Eric didn't answer her.  He turned and faced the ride again.  

Sheila had called her parents' answering machine, leaving a message that she, Hank, Ayesha, Bobby, and Teri had gone to the park for the day and may not be back until late.  It seemed as good an excuse as any and her parents would most likely believe it.  After all, Sheila wasn't supposed to know about their surprise and they would probably think that Bobby was just keeping her occupied until they got back with Aunt Margie.

Sheila, Hank, and Teri then made their way back to where Diana and Eric were waiting, leaving Presto at the pay phone trying to get in touch with Maggie.

"Come on, come on," he repeated into the receiver as the line continued to ring.  He was startled by the sudden sensation of a hand playfully covering his eyes.  He whirled around to see his smiling wife standing behind him.  His face fell.  He had been praying to find her at home.  If she was here at the park, it was probably because Varla had wanted to come . . . and Teri's story had to be true.

Maggie immediately reacted to his grim expression.  "What is it, Presto?"

Presto swallowed hard.  He didn't know how to tell her this.  Sure, he had told her everything, just as he informed Eric that he had.  And she said she believed him.  But now he was forced to wonder if she may have merely been humoring him.  At his hesitation, Maggie prodded him again, "Pres, tell me!"

He moved his mouth, but could force no sound out.

"Preston!"  This made him meet her gaze fully.  She only called him that when she meant business.  "For God's sake, you're scaring me!"

Presto sighed and took her by the shoulders to ease her down onto a nearby bench.  "Maggie," he began, "Remember those stories I told you -- about my past . . . ."

Diana looked across the park to where Presto and his wife sat.  The woman seemed engrossed in what Presto was saying to her, then fell into his arms, clutching him tightly.  He had told her.

Presto pulled away from her and took her hands, gripping them firmly with every word he said.  He then planted a kiss on her forehead and got up off the bench to make his way toward the others.  When he reached them, Maggie was half a step behind him.  "Then I'm going with you," she insisted.

Presto didn't have to tell her "no."  She knew when he looked at her.  He gently placed a hand to her stomach and the two fell again into a troubled embrace.  Maggie pulled away with tears in her eyes.  "Be careful," she whispered.

"Are we ready, then?" Hank asked them once they had all regrouped at the ride.  "Diana, are you going to call your brother?"

Diana shook her head.  "I wouldn't know what to say to him.  Let's just get there and get them out."

Once they had reached the line, Hank felt another figure ease beside him.  "No, Teri," he said turning to face her, "You should stay here."

Teri looked determinedly at Hank.  "I left him there once.  I won't do it again."  That was all she said . . . but it was all she had to say.

As the six filed into the red coaster car, Maggie stepped back to stand beside Cassie.  The older woman noted the urgent worry that seemed to flood through Maggie's entire body.  "Oh, don't fret, my dear," Cassie said with a slight laugh, "It's just a little ride.  Nothing they can't handle."  She then turned back to where the red car was entering the gaping mouth of the dragon.  "When I told Eric he needed to work less, I never expected this," she mused aloud, her blue eyes twinkling with a faraway gleam.  "Showing up at the park, looking for his son, and taking that ride . . . .  I always knew that he was still a young one at heart!"

*          *          *

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Author's Notes:**

On Venger -- Most D&DC fans have read _Requiem_, but this is to clear up any confusion for anyone who has not.  The journey to "Realm's Edge," the sarcophagus in which Venger had sealed his noble spirit, his ultimate redemption, as well as the Young Ones' choice of whether to stay in the Realm or return home are all included within that script by Michael Reaves.  (Mr. Reaves wrote this episode to either close out the series or introduce a new season.  Unfortunately, due to ratings, neither happened and the episode was never made.  As of this posting, the script is still available to read online at http://www.mindspring.com/~michaelreaves/D&Dpreface.html.)  I hope to stay as close to the actual canon of the show as I can, even though I'm basing much of my storyline on an unproduced episode!  But, yes!  If things had finished off the way they were supposed to, Venger would have been one of the good guys!  (_Supposedly_!  *G*)  

On the passage of time -- It has always been my belief that the kids would return home to the same day that they left, no matter how much time went by in the Realm.  For the purposes of this story, however, I did need a little time to pass.  Since the show lasted 3 seasons, I estimate that the Young Ones' time in the Realm did not exceed 3 years (Realm-time), but that only several hours had passed on Earth.  Therefore, if 16 years passed here, then a few hundred years may have gone by in the Realm.  If I were getting paid to do this for a living, I may sit down and map it out exactly, but as it stands right now, I claim creative license! J

On the new characters -- I don't usually have a problem with new characters created for a story as long as they are well-done and not too annoyingly perfect!  There are those, I know, who don't like the addition of new characters at all.  To you I say, don't worry!  Although they do play a major role at times, they will not be focused on over-and-above the original Young Ones.  They are, in ways, a catalyst to channel the action of their parents; an extension of the originals perhaps.  Everything I have tried to do in this fic has included some reference to the original series, so hopefully, it will be seen as to how these new kids fit into that mold as well. 

On the new character classes -- I, unfortunately, am not a gamer.  (Not by choice, but by lack of knowing any D&D players in my area!)  But, I have done quite a bit of research on the game's classes of characters (Special thanks, again, to Alavahr for all your initial advice!), so I hope not to disappoint those who know the fundamentals of the game on which this show was originally based.  I did, however, need to make my own modifications due to the plans that I have for this story.  For example, I realize that there is no "Squire" class, although he might belong in the "Fighter" category.  The new weapons could not be too powerful, either.  They have particular abilities, some being for offense while some are for defense, their fair share of weaknesses, and so on.  In short, the kids must work together and rely on each others' special abilities as well as their own.  (Just like those on the original show!)  I admit that sometimes the creation of classes for introduced characters can be a bit on the cheesy side, and if there are any purists who feel thus, I apologize.  But please remember that the cartoon did not follow the Gaming Guide to the letter either, and it is the **_cartoon's_** canon on which I am basing this story.

Okay!  Enough notes!  I hope you all continue to enjoy "Legacy!"  Feedback is greatly appreciated, and any specific questions and/or comments can also be directed to my email address on my profile page.

Chapter 4 coming soon! 


	4. Rebirth

**Disclaimer:  **Since its development in 1983, the animated series _Dungeons and Dragons_ has belonged to the following at some point:  Marvel Productions, TSR, Inc., Wizards of the Coast,  Saban Entertainment, (according to rumor) Disney, and possibly even others.  I guess my point is, it does not (nor has it ever) belonged to me.  Oh, well!  This story, however, does!  I hope you enjoy it!

**Rating:  ****PG_-_13 for some language and violent elements**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LEGACY  
Chapter 4 -- Rebirth 

"Bobby!"

Teri saw him.  And the four children.  They were walking away from her; emerging from the surrounding canyon and into the vastness of the Realm beyond.  She ran to catch up, crying out to him again.  

They didn't stop.  They didn't turn.  They walked on, not seeming to hear her at all.  They were walking -- proudly and slowly -- toward the unknown.  And no matter how fast Teri ran behind them, she couldn't seem to catch up.  Couldn't seem to let them know that she was there.  In fact, the faster she ran, the farther away from them she seemed to get as the image before her started to cloud into a blurry haze. 

"Bobby!"

When Teri awoke, she found herself on the hard ground, the canyon walls from her dream surrounding her.  She looked around for Bobby and the children, knowing full well from the vision she had just had that they had already gotten a head start.  In fact, they were most likely a good way ahead of her right now.  If she and the others wanted to find them, they had to start moving.  But first they needed to learn where they needed to go.

It took a few extra minutes for the minds of the others to focus on the task at hand.  They had spent far longer in the Realm than Teri had, and they clearly needed more adjusting to the fact that they were back.  

The ride had been difficult for all of them.  For a few minutes, it had seemed as though nothing would happen at all, and they had all become very afraid by that point.  What if the portal that Bobby and the children had entered was the only one?  What if the rest of them couldn't get back to the Realm?  Sheila had taken both Hank's and Teri's hands tightly as the car rounded the last bend; almost willing the gateway to appear.

It did . . . and the rest of the ride was a blur.

Diana staggered to her feet and looked around.  For a moment, she wished she had taken Hank's cue and called her brother.  He deserved to know what had happened to his son.  But T.J. would never believe this.  He hadn't believed her the first time she tried to tell both him and her younger brother, Matthew, sixteen years ago.  If he couldn't understand then, he wouldn't now.  Besides, if what she remembered about the time difference between Earth and the Realm was true, then wasting precious minutes back home meant wasting even more precious hours here.  Perhaps even a day.

As she continued to scan the landscape, Diana noticed that her friends were dressed to assume the former roles that they had filled over sixteen years ago.  Hank was wearing his familiar green tights and shirt with the studded leather tunic.  Sheila had on her former pink dress with thigh-high boots.  Presto wore the green magician robe and slippers, which were still oversized, although not as bad as before.  Eric was donning the chain mail, golden armor, and crimson cape of his Cavalier alter ego.  Diana, herself, had on her pelted two-piece, garnished with golden jewelry.  Something very important was missing from each of their costumes, however.  Neither she nor her friends had their weapons.

The only one wearing unfamiliar clothing was Teri; as the last time she had remained in her Earth clothes.  Now, however, she had on a simple lightweight blue tunic, the hem of which extended to mid-thigh.  The frock was gathered and belted at the waist, giving it the appearance of a short dress.  Underneath, was a pair of brown leggings tucked into boots of the same color.  

"How is everybody?" Hank asked as he helped Sheila to her feet and held her hands as they surveyed their surroundings.

"Scrambled!" Eric groaned, shakily rising to his feet as well.  "You'd think that after all we did for him the last time, the Magic Midget could drop us somewhere soft for a change!  Why is it always into the Not-So-Grand-Canyon?"

Presto adjusted his glasses and looked around.  "Where is Dungeon Master anyway?  Shouldn't he be getting here with our weapons, like soon!"

"Coward's probably afraid of what I was gonna do to him when I got here," Eric grumbled, cracking his knuckles.  "Yo!  DM!" he called out, his voice bouncing off the rocks, "Come out, come out wherever you are!"  When he received no reply, Eric tried again, "Get out here and give us some answers, you creepy little . . . _little . . . !"_

Teri turned as Eric's voice changed from threatening to threatened.  He was backing nervously away from something.  The girl screamed upon seeing what it was.  Everyone else spun around as well.

Hank's fingers instinctively twitched, trying to reach for the bowstring of a weapon that he didn't even have.  His friends seemed to have a similar reaction; a mixture of shock, panic, and defensiveness -- because the sight that met their eyes was not the Dungeon Master that they remembered.

"Welcome, Young Ones," the towering figure said with a strangely peaceful smile.  "I have been eagerly awaiting your return."

*          *          *

Hank and the others were just as suspicious of the new Dungeon Master as Bobby had been.  Even though they had seen him revert back to his original noble self with their own eyes, what had felt like years of squaring off against him had not been forgotten, and had not passed without leaving many scars.  They glared incredulously at him as he notified them as to his assumption of the title, Dungeon Master of the Realm.  Each one became increasingly unnerved at the idea that the old Dungeon Master would not be with them.

This new Dungeon Master looked very different; and not just because of his larger size or younger age.  Where the Young Ones had previously dealt with the riddles of an amiable old man in whimsical red robes, this one had more of a sovereign appearance than that of a mystic mage.  

Venger was dressed as a noble warrior, his former garb of gray and red replaced by a more regal gray and black.  His body was surrounded by mounds of billowing material that moved with him as he walked and seemed to befit his new station.  The jagged bat wings he once wore were now a full and flowing black cloak, and his head was now topped with a long, formal hood where the horned helmet had been.  He looked prepared for a valiant battle, even though the Young Ones always knew the Dungeon Master's role to be more of a guide than a warrior.  (In fact, they had never known their old guide to interfere in their quests at all -- unless, of course, a force happened to appear that threatened the existence of the entire Realm.)  

Venger was, indeed, a sharp contrast to the Dungeon Master of the past . . . except that, on the front of his cloak, he was wearing Dungeon Master's old crystal amulet.

As the reformed Venger relayed his story, Diana nudged Eric with her shoulder.  "Didn't you say something about wanting to 'throttle that riddle-blabbing pipsqueak,' Cavalier?" she whispered.  "Here's your chance!"

Eric stepped forward, clearing his throat nervously.  "Listen, Venger," he said, "Congratulations on becoming the new Chairman of the Board and all, but there's really only one thing we want to know."  He glanced back at Diana, who raised an amused eyebrow at his inability to follow through on his previous threat.

"Where are Bobby and our kids?" Hank asked, completing Eric's thought.

"The Barbarian and the others have begun their journey," Venger replied.  "I did not inform them of your arrival because I was not certain as to when that would be.  But now  that you are here, they will need your help.  Time grows short and the threat to our world grows stronger every day."

"What kind of threat?" Presto asked.  "Something worse than you were?"  He immediately cringed at his own words, but Venger did not appear fazed.

"Three times worse, Magician," the Dungeon Master answered as he repeated the words he had mentally conveyed to Varla earlier, "You must stop this new threat to the Realm.  A new evil force that has been created by the One that is as old as time itself."

Hank stiffened at those words.  He recognized the implications of that description.  "So He's back," the Ranger muttered.  "He Who Can't Be Named is back.  Just like Dungeon Master said He would be."

Venger nodded gravely.  "Astute as always, Ranger," he commented, something that Hank wasn't used to coming from Venger.  "Although I wish for the world that you were wrong.  However, when the Nameless One lost His champion, the being once known as 'Venger,' He set about creating a new one . . . three to be exact.  Three creatures of great power, who have conquered much of the Realm already.  However, unlike Venger, they do not wish to rule the Realm; they wish only to devastate it -- and leave it for their Master."

Presto looked confused.  "Why wait this long?" he asked.  "I mean, you said yourself that we defeated you over two hundred years ago -- 'Realm-time,' that is.  Why would No-Name wait until now to get His revenge?"

"You forget, Magician," the Dungeon Master informed them, settling himself on a nearby rock, "That the Nameless One is as old as time itself.  Eons pass like minutes for such a being."

"So," Eric mused as he came to stand in front of the seated Dungeon Master, "You're telling us that there are three of these things."

"Yes, three," Venger replied.

"And that would make them three times more powerful than you were."

"That is correct, Cavalier."

Eric nodded his head in understanding.  Then, without another word, he let loose a balled fist and struck Venger across the jaw with as much force as he could muster.  The former Archmage tottered on the rock just a bit, seeming more startled than hurt.  After overcoming their shock, Hank and Diana raced forward to hold Eric back from doing anything else.  The Cavalier cradled his fist into his chest, swearing sharply under his breath.  Judging by the look on his face, he had done more damage to his hand than to Venger, but the young man's anger more than made up for it.  

"_Three times more powerful than you were, and you take our CHILDREN to fight them!"  Eric wrenched himself free of Hank's and Diana's grip, but did not advance on Venger again.  "You son of a __bitch!" he growled as he backed away.  Sheila tried to place a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged her off._

The Young Ones each felt a painful knot in the pits of their stomachs as they dumbly watched what had happened.  They knew that Venger had reclaimed his goodness, but they couldn't forget that they had known him at his worst.  None of them knew how volatile he might be . . . nor did they ever want to find out.

For his part, Venger merely sighed as though he had expected this -- or at least a reaction like it.  "Contrary to what you may believe, Cavalier," he said patiently, "I did not steal your children away from you, nor did I plan to use them as bait to lure you back here.  This world is in terrible peril.  Your own may be as well, should the Realm fall.  The increased strength of this new force of evil requires an even greater force of good to counter it.  The Realm's former champions were needed again, but six pure hearts would not have been enough this time.  Your virtuous spirits, and the ones that live on through your children, are the only things that can defeat the new threat to this land."

"Venger?" Hank asked.  He felt a bit foolish referring to the new Dungeon Master by his old name; a name that should have died along with the evil that had once been inside of him.  But neither Hank, nor the rest of the Young Ones, could seem to be able to call him anything else.  Venger, however, made no move to correct any of them; perhaps leaving it as a penitent reminder of what he had once been.  "What can you tell us about these evil beings?" Hank concluded his question.

"Yeah," Eric called from his side of the canyon, where he had stationed himself on a rock, still holding his sore hand, "And none of that riddling mumbo-jumbo that your dad used to pull on us!  Give it to us straight!"

"The beings are not inhabitants of the Realm who were turned to evil as I was," Venger began.  "They were created directly by the Nameless One from His own essence for the strict purpose of destroying and subjugating this world."

"Not that I'm daring Him or anything," Eric said, "But if What's-His-Name is so powerful, why doesn't He just do His own dirty work?  From what DM told us the last time, He could do it just like that," he added with a snap of his fingers.

Venger shook his head.  "He Whose Name Must Not Be Spoken is unmitigated evil, Cavalier," he answered.  "Evil does not thrive on quick and painless conquests, but on fear and chaos.  He can not feel satisfaction if He does not cause suffering -- which He seeks to do through these three new creatures."  

Teri thought back to her dream from the night before, remembering how she saw who she now knew to be Bobby and the four children facing the towering figure surrounded by smoke and fire.  At first, she had thought the figure was Venger.  Now, however, she thought it might be one of these new creatures . . . or perhaps even a representation of the Nameless One, Himself.  She remembered what Bobby had told her about 'Him' after returning from the Realm.  Thinking of the dream scared her again.  It could be a premonition of what might happen if she and the others didn't reach Bobby and the children in time.  Teri became even more frantic to find them.

"Each evil force specializes in a particular branch of destruction," Venger continued.  "There are parts of the Realm that have gone barren with pestilence because of the workings of one.  Wars have broken out between once peaceful nations due to the influence of another.  The third simply unleashes havoc wherever he my ride, causing more death and destruction than even the Warduke ever could.  They quickly work their way across the Realm, and shall soon overtake it entirely."

Hank looked ponderous.  "I know that description," he said.  "There are cultures back home that have the same legends.  The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse is similar to this."

"Yeah," Presto agreed, "I remember reading about that."

"Um, news flash, Mr. History!" Eric interjected to Hank, "That's an _Earth legend!  And this isn't just another culture!  We're in another wacko dimension!"_

"Eric, there are cultures back home that sprouted up hundreds, even thousands, of miles away from each other and yet, somehow managed to have the same types of stories," Hank informed him.  "Take the Native American Indians, for example . . . ."

"Here we go!" Eric grumbled, pounding his forehead repeatedly with the heel of his palm.

"There were tribes that existed on opposite coastlines that, somehow, developed the same themes in their creation stories.  Even some religions have the same basis for their beliefs.  Hinduism and Christianity both believe in a divine trinity and even have similar stories about how one part of that trinity was born on Earth as a man."

"He's right, Eric," Sheila said, nodding toward Hank.

The Cavalier looked up from his sarcastic pummeling of himself.  "Look, Ginger," he said to her, "You and the Professor here might _love having these historical conversations at home, but I took the class three times in high school!  Do you think maybe he can spare us the lecture!  I wanna find my kid!  Nothing he has to say has anything to do with what we're facing!"_

"Sure it does!" Diana said.  "If different cultures can have similar stories, why can't different dimensions?"

"Besides," Presto added, "Merlin was an Earth legend, but here he was a real guy!  There are things about this place that we just . . . understood when we got here . . . and we couldn't explain why!  Dragons, unicorns, griffins, giants -- none of that exists on our world.  We don't have any magic either.  But when we saw a unicorn or a dragon for the  first time, did we have to ask what it was?  No!  We already knew!"

"There's a link between our worlds.  Even a subconscious one.  Just like there seems to be a link between cultures back home," Hank concluded.

"One of those links," Venger finally added, "Is the Nameless One, Himself.  Part of the reason His name is not uttered is because He goes by many . . . in many different worlds."  Hank nodded.  He knew that.  Dungeon Master had told them years ago.

"All cultures fear 'the end' no matter what world you come from," Hank said.  "And one of the legendary harbingers of that 'end' tells the story of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.  It may not be the exact same story here, but it sounds like it has some similarities.  They're described just as Venger said: Famine, War, Death, and--"

"_And that's only three!" Eric interrupted.  "Should we be looking out for __another one?"_

Hank paused thoughtfully.  "I think . . . ," he said, "Maybe there are only three . . . because we've already beaten one."  He turned and glared at Venger.  "According to the legend, the first 'horseman' . . . was 'Conquest.'"

*          *          *

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Author's Notes:**  The legend of the Four Horsemen is a part of the lore of many cultures (from Babylon to the Bible to even the Marvel Universe, itself -- as used in X-Men).  The events in this story will not really be a re-imagining of that legend, but simply a method of adding characterization to the newest forces of evil in the Realm.

**Thank You:  **Special thanks to Kimmy for the additional proofreading help, the encouragement and endless supply of kind words, and for always keeping shelf space open for me in your wonderful Darkhaven library!

**And finally . . . **

For Matt, who really _could_ have been Diana's younger brother.  (1986-2001)    
God bless.


	5. A Long Day's Journey into Night

**Disclaimer:  **Since its development in 1983, the animated series _Dungeons and Dragons_ has belonged to the following at some point:  Marvel Productions, TSR, Inc., Wizards of the Coast,  Saban Entertainment, (according to rumor) Disney, and possibly even others.  I guess my point is, it does not (nor has it ever) belonged to me.  Oh, well!  This story, however, does!  I hope you enjoy it!

**Rating:  ****PG_-_13 for some language and violent elements**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**_LEGACY_**_   
**Chapter 5 -- A Long Day's Journey into Night **_***__**

"Can we stop?"

Bobby turned to face John who was dragging up the rear.  He then looked to the four suns above.  "Yeah," he said, "We can stop for a little rest."

"Where exactly are we going, Bobby" Toby asked as the five settled into the nearest patch of shade that they could find in the surrounding Dustlands.

"Well," Bobby began, "If what Veng--, uh, -- Dungeon Master says is true, then these three beings have already overtaken a big part of the Realm."

"He said we have to reach the 'fortress of strength,' and that there we might find allies to aid us in our quest," Varla added as she slid off Uni's back.  The unicorn then settled herself beside Bobby and he began to stroke her mane affectionately just like he used to.  Ayesha joined him.

"How do we know where this 'fortress of strength' is?" John asked, tugging once again at his tabard.

"The strongest fortress I know of in this world is Tardos Keep," Bobby replied.  "It was one of the places that Venger wasn't able to get into.  If he couldn't do it, then maybe these three new 'Vengers' can't either.  I figure it's as good a place to start as any.  It shouldn't be much farther . . . just past the Dustlands."  

He glanced over at Ayesha who was looking at him in wonder.  Even though she was hearing it with her own ears, she couldn't believe how much her uncle knew about this world.  He spoke as though he had lived here for years.  What she found even more hard to believe, was that he never told anyone about it.  And her mom and dad --

"I still can't believe that our parents spent time here," Varla said aloud as though she was reading Ayesha's mind.  Then again, maybe she was.  "This is like some kind of weird dream."

"I wish I could tell you that it was," Bobby sighed.  "What I can tell you is that you four at least have families that will believe you and can understand what you went through when we get back."

"You mean _if we get back," John grumbled._

Bobby locked eyes with the boy.  "I said _when, and I meant __when."  He paused, trying to reassure John with his eyes before continuing.  "We all had a hard time when we returned home.  We couldn't tell anyone because we knew they wouldn't believe us.  Especially since no time had passed in our world . . . even though it felt like many months here -- A year -- Maybe even two.  Or more.  Anyway, all we had was each other."  He smiled encouragingly.  "You'll have it a lot better off than that!"_

"My Aunt Di told me about this place.  I thought they were just really creative bedtime stories, though," Toby admitted.  "When I was about five or six years old she would tell me stories about six adventurers on a journey to find their way home."

Bobby smiled knowingly.  He had told the same stories to Ayesha when she was little, too; when Hank and Sheila would bring her for a visit.  He remembered laughing when she would inform him that her daddy had told her "that one" already.  At the time, the girl probably thought that Bobby and her parents read from the same storybook.  

"I remember several stories with a five-headed dragon," Toby said, "And one about a knight changed into a skeleton as punishment for a great betrayal."

Ayesha nodded.  "The Child of the Stargazer, the young Illusionist, the girl who could dream the future . . . ."  She looked at Bobby, who was still stroking Uni.  ". . . And a baby unicorn with a fiery orange mane!"

"There was always a guy with one horn and batwings that tried to stop them . . . ,"  John continued, as though adding to a growing list with which they were all familiar.

Varla swallowed hard.  "A-And they had a guide who gave them magical weapons to help them on their quest.  A magic hat, a shield . . . ."

". . . A cloak of invisibility and a magic javelin . . . ." Toby breathed.

" . . . A bow that shot flaming arrows . . . ." John said.

". . . And a club . . . ." Ayesha could barely breathe as her eyes remained fixed on her Uncle Bobby's weapon.  She slowly brought them up to meet the wide-eyed gazes of the others.  They had all heard the same stories.  Each Young One turned their head to face Bobby again.  

The young man held up his hands with a lopsided grin.  "What can I say?" he sighed, "Truth is way stranger than fiction!"

The next few hours passed rather quickly as the five had gotten into a whirlwind discussion about whose parent did what while in the Realm.  Bobby found himself answering all kinds of questions, and actually enjoying it.  He chatted excitedly about the time spent in this world -- something that he had never been able to do before -- and, as he had become the resident expert, the kids listened intently to everything he had to say.

"Yeah," he said retrospectively, "Diana was amazing.  She didn't even bat an eye.  She went charging into that column of light in the temple, destroyed the demon, and saved the entire city of Turad."

"Wow," Toby said, impressed.

"But she had to switch places with the man she loved and he was forced to leave her forever," Ayesha said, remembering the story.  "I think that's the saddest thing I ever heard."

"We all left a little piece of ourselves here in the Realm," Bobby explained.  "But, you know, you grow from experiences like that.  Granted, it's not your typical coming-of-age, but . . . ."  He paused thoughtfully.  "I'm sure Diana wouldn't mind if you asked her about it when we get home.  I think all of them would probably enjoy finally being able to talk about it."

"So, what little piece of yourself did you leave here, Uncle Bobby?" Ayesha coaxed, "If you don't mind me asking.  Was it the dreamer girl?  Was that you?"

"That was me," Bobby admitted with a smile.  "But I didn't lose her.  I found her again."

"Really?" Ayesha gushed, "Where?"

Bobby smirked at her.  "Home," he said.  "Don't you remember the story?  The Dreamer was from our world."

Ayesha giggled excitedly.  "Is it Teri, Uncle Bobby?  Oooh, that is _so romantic!"_

"Give me a break!" John groaned from astride Uni, where both he and Varla were now stationed.

Bobby nodded as he turned back to his niece.  "Actually," he said, "I left my best friend here in the Realm."  He stroked the unicorn's mane as they walked.  "I never thought I would see her again."  He looked lovingly at Uni and she nuzzled into him again.

"Looks like she's glad to see you again, too," Toby said as he patted the unicorn as well.

"Bobby?" Varla asked, "Dungeon Master mentioned something before about my 'Illusionist namesake.'  What did he mean by that?"

"Well," Bobby replied, turning to her as he walked, "Your dad helped to save a young illusionist here years ago.  She had been a prisoner of Venger and she and Presto shared a special kind of bond.  Anyway, her name was Varla, too."  

"Really?" the Mystic said with a smile.

"You said Varla's father was the magician, right?" Toby asked.  "So, was he the one who got to control the Dungeon Master's power for a day?  That would have been awesome!"

"It was pretty awesome," Bobby agreed, "But it wasn't Presto who did it."  He turned to John.  "That was Eric."

The young Squire looked amazed.  "My dad?" he said, "Really?  Was he any good?"

Bobby smiled.  "He was great at it, kid," he confirmed.  "He confronted Venger one-on-one . . . and he saved our lives."

"Whoa," John breathed with a kind of quiet pride.  He patted Uni's neck and sat taller upon her back.

"And your folks," Bobby said to Ayesha, "Sheila always knew the right thing to do and she took care of us all.  And Hank . . . well, Hank was the best leader we could have ever hoped for.  He was the one who got us home; he was smart and could think things through.  And he wasn't afraid of anything."

"Hey, wasn't there a time when all of you had to face your biggest fears?" Ayesha asked.  "In some tower or something?"

"Yeah, but Hank was the one who got us out of that," Bobby answered.  "He always was the best at conquering his fears."

"So what's your biggest fear, Conan the Barbarian?" John asked jokingly.

Bobby shot a sideways smile at the boy.  "It's certainly not the same thing now as it was back then," he said.  But that was all he said.

"Mine's spiders," Ayesha offered, "I _hate them!"_

"Then we'd better watch," Bobby laughed, "`Cause they grow them pretty big here!  Snails, too!"

"Forget spiders," John interjected, "What about being seen in these Renaissance Fair rejects?  Especially the Purple Avenger over here!"

"Listen, _Squire_," Toby jeered, twisting the boy's new title, "For the last time, these clothes are _indigo_, not purple."  He walked a few more steps before casting a sideways look back up at the younger boy.  "So then, what's your biggest fear, Master Montgomery?" the Fighter scoffed, "Running out of cash?  Or running out of people to boss around?"

"I'm living it!" John grumbled.  "I've always been afraid that some seven-foot-tall wacko would dress me up in weird clothes and force me to march around a stupid wasteland looking for the ultimate evil!"

Varla wrapped her arms tighter around John to hold on as Uni eased down a rocky slope.  "He's afraid of his father leaving him like his mother did," she said as though in a trance.

John stiffened, horrified.  He looked down, to where Varla's hands were wrapped around his torso, and saw her magic wand glowing.  He wriggled to get free of her grasp as he spun around to face her.  "Get the heck out of my head!" he wailed.  "You were freaky back home, but never _this freaky!"_

"I'm sorry," the Mystic said sheepishly.  "I-I just don't seem to be able to help it now that I have this wand.  That, and the fact that I was touching you at the time . . . I mean, I guess I just read your thoughts.  Sorry."

John's cheeks reddened with embarrassment as he turned back around.  Although the others did their best to ignore what had just happened, the fact that the conversation had suddenly turned so serious left an awkward silence in the air.  Varla tried to break it.  "If it will make you feel better," she offered, "I'll tell you mine.  I'm totally afraid of--"

Varla's words were cut off by a sudden battle cry from above their heads.  The Young Ones looked up as several pig-like creatures slid down the rocks surrounding them.  "Eww!  What are they, Uncle Bobby?" Ayesha cried frantically as the creatures closed in around them.

Toby stared at the snarling brutes with nervous disgust.  "They look like Jabba the Hutt's guards!"

"Orcs!" Bobby yelled back, raising his club, "Everybody scatter!"  The Barbarian brought his weapon down hard onto the ground with his familiar wordless cry, toppling many of the Orcs and sending the children staggering clumsily away as well.  

Uni reared up as an enormous Orc soldier lunged for her, and Varla slid from the unicorn's back.  John managed to hang on, thankful for the brief period of riding lessons he had taken about a year ago.  The Mystic stumbled to her feet and gasped as one of the creatures made a grab for her.  She squeezed her eyes shut and held up her wand as though it could save her life.

It did.  Triggered by her desperate trust in it, the wand had managed to freeze the Orc in a running position.  Varla looked at the stick in disbelief and tried again -- on the Orc advancing upon Toby.  This time the wand remained dormant.  "What's wrong with this thing!" she cried as she shook it.

The Fighter managed on his own, however.  As the Orc took a swipe at him with its spear, Toby deftly sidestepped the attack with as much skilled grace as Diana had always shown, gripped the whip at his side and used it to pry the spear from his attacker's hands.  The astounded Orc, seeing that his victim now had two weapons to his none, did the only thing that a self-respecting Orc could do.  He turned and fled.  As the Orc neared the drop of a rocky hill, Toby released his whip again, yanking one of the Orc's legs out from under him and sending him tumbling over the slope and out of sight.

Ayesha backed away from the Orc that was approaching her and drew her hilt from its spot at her waist.  The minute both hands gripped it, the golden blade blazed forth from its center once again.  "Stay away from me, bacon breath!  I'm warning you!" she cried.  When the Orc failed to heed her, she took a swipe at him with the sword.  The blade, to Ayesha's surprise, shrank a bit as it neared the Orc's body, only grazing his uniform.  The Paladin thought about how she hadn't wanted to hurt the Orc, only drive him back.  The shorter blade enabled her to do just that.  _It listens to me!_ she thought.

As the creature leapt away from the tip of the sword and glanced down at his singed uniform, Ayesha took aim at him again.  She mentally commanded the blade to fire the same type of bolt that had destroyed the rock back in the canyon.  But this time, as it neared the Orc, it separated into two manacles which caught the creature's wrists and pinned him to a tree.  Ayesha smiled at her success.

John had slid off Uni's back as most of the Orcs retreated.  Bobby was driving a number of them away with another earthquake caused by his club.  "And he says he was even younger than me when he was given that thing!" the Squire grumbled.  "How come I only have a--"  His words stopped as he noticed an Orc taking aim at Varla with a crossbow.  The girl hadn't seen him as she was still struggling to get her wand to work again.

John ran toward the Mystic.  "Varla!" he cried, "Look out!"  He reached her side as the Orc's arrow was released.  The power of the Squire's medallion surrounded both of them like a hazy bell as the arrow struck the side.  The sound it made as it hit resonated in John's ears and he made eye contact with the cloudy outline of the Orc through the shield generated by his amulet.  He looked up to see Toby take a strike at the creature with his whip, driving it away.  

John then turned to Varla, a triumphant smile upon his face.  But the Mystic was no longer beside him.  He looked down at his feet only to see her crumpled into a ball there.  For a moment, the boy's heart jumped into his throat as he thought that she may have been hit after all.  He actually hadn't known whether or not the protective force of his medallion could shield more than one person, he had just instinctively tried to do it. 

John crouched down beside his friend and tentatively touched her shoulder as the others came running over.  "V-Varla?  You okay?  Say something!"

The girl whimpered slightly and curled herself tighter into the fetal position.  "Shut it off, shut it off, shut it off . . . ."  She repeated quietly over and over.

John shook her shoulder again.  "What do you mean . . . ?"

"SHUT IT OFF, _PLEASE!" Varla screamed at the top of her lungs.  John suddenly realized that she was talking about the force field.  _

"It's off, Varla," he assured her.  "It turned off after Toby chased that pig thing away."

The Mystic's tear-stained face emerged from where she had buried it beneath her arms and she gazed up at the others around her.  Her breathing was shaky and erratic.  "Thank you," she muttered weakly as she stumbled to get up.  Ayesha helped her.  

"What happened?" the Paladin asked.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," Varla said in reply.  She walked over to Uni, as stroking the unicorn seemed to give her comfort.  "Let's keep moving."

They traveled in silence for a long time, until Bobby dropped back to walk beside Varla.  "You're claustrophobic," he guessed.  "That was the big fear you were going to tell us about."

Varla shrugged.  "When I was little, my dad used to lock me in this little closet under the stairs.  It was only a crawlspace for storing stuff.  Sometimes I would stay in there for hours before he would come back.  Once it was for a whole day.  That's how I became a ward of the state.  A neighbor heard me crying for hours and called the police.  Child Services came and took me away that night."

"I'm sorry," Bobby muttered.  It was all he could think to say.  Both he and Sheila had had such a loving family life.  Even Eric, who was eternally complaining about his father, had never had it that bad.

Varla forced a smile.  "Don't be sorry," she said.  "It turned out for the best.  Coming to live with Presto and Maggie was the best thing that could have happened to me."

Bobby smiled back and placed a hand on the girl's shoulder.  She didn't talk like a thirteen-year-old kid.  But, he supposed, having to live like that forces somebody to grow up pretty quickly.  Bobby knew how that felt.  Although the circumstances surrounding his instant maturity were somewhat different, to say the least.

"It's weird really," Varla continued, "I was more shaken up being cooped inside that shield with John than I was fighting the Orcs!"

"Are you sure it wasn't the company?" Toby said lightheartedly.  Varla laughed, and this succeeded at easing the tension that had been hanging over the group for the last hour or so.  

John, however, wasn't amused.  "Yeah, yeah!  Very funny!  Listen, Fancy-Pants, just remember I saved her--"

Bobby clamped his hand over the boy's mouth and ducked behind a rock.  The others followed suit.  He released it when he was sure John wouldn't make a noise, and pointed toward the valley below.  There, the five Young Ones saw an enormous stone monolith rising high off the canyon's floor.  It was a towering structure, looking as solid and impenetrable as it did ancient.  The bolted doors in the front were made of the heaviest-looking wood that any of them had ever seen.  

What caught the eye of the youngsters the most was not the imposing edifice that Bobby pointed out as Tardos Keep, but the vast encampment of soldiers stationed outside the city walls.  The Young Ones fell into a nervous silence as they watched hundreds of the Orcs, the same type of creatures that they had battled earlier, marching about beneath the stone steps of Tardos.

Bobby scrutinized the scene below them; almost the same scene that had played out the last time he had been here.  He exhaled thoughtfully.  "Déjà vu!"

*          *          *

Venger had apologized for the unceremonious way in which he bestowed their Realm clothing.  Unlike Bobby and the kids, upon arriving, Hank and the others had been instantly dressed in their former attire, just like the last time, and their weapons followed in short order.  As time was of the essence, it seemed best.

Teri was the only one who didn't receive a Weapon of Power.  "You carry your greatest asset with you, Dreamer," Venger had told her.  "Keep your heart open.  It will provide aid when you need it the most."

It wasn't long before the Young Ones were on their way again; trudging through the Realm.  The feeling was so familiar, even after all this time.

"So, where are we going, anyway?" Eric asked as he handled the golden griffin-faced shield on his left arm, adjusting and readjusting as though it was more of an ornamentation than a weapon.

"Venger said we have to return to the 'fortress of strength,'" Hank answered.  "If, like he said, we're meeting an ally there, I'm guessing that's were we'll join up with the others."

"_Expect to encounter aid -- most unexpectedly; at an unforeseen time, in a strange place_," Presto intoned, more to himself.  "You _know_ the old DM gave him lessons in not making sense!" 

"Are you sure he meant Tardos, Hank?" Sheila asked as she walked alongside the Ranger.  "He was pretty vague.  We've been in so many strong fortresses in this world."

"I'm hoping that it is," Hank replied.  "It's where I would want Ayesha to be.  It's the safest, most impenetrable place in this Realm."  As he spoke, Hank took the opportunity to try his bow.  He gripped the familiar handle and sought the bowstring with his right hand, allowing the golden arrow to blaze forth before releasing it up into the sky.  It exploded in a burst of light.  

Sheila approached her husband and took his arm.  She smiled gently at him.  "He could have seen it," she said knowingly.  Hank glanced at her before returning his gaze to the sky, where the residual magic illumination of his arrow was twinkling back down to the earth like the remains of fireworks.

"Bobby's probably got a good day's lead on us," Hank said.  "But if he did see the arrow somehow, maybe he'll know that we're here and sit tight to wait for us."  Hank lowered the bow to his side once more.  "I'll fire another in a little while."

"Just don't attract any unwanted attention, Hank," Eric warned.  "At least not until we've all gotten to try these out."  He held up his shield.  "Do you think we can still use them the way we used to?"

"C'mon, Cavalier!"  Eric looked up to see Diana vaulting from an area behind him, gripping a low-hanging branch of a nearby tree, and landing in a perfect flip beside Presto.  "It's like riding a bike.  You never forget!"

"Speak for yourself," Presto said.  "We're not all old pros like you are, Diana.  Looks like you've stayed in training.  We may have gotten a little rusty."

"I wouldn't worry if I were you," Eric said to him.  "It's hard to get rusty at something that was all screwy to begin with!"

"_Hocus pocus, alaca-nap!  We could all go for something to shut Eric's yap!"  Presto whispered these words to his hat without hesitation, smirking triumphantly as a strip of duck tape flew out of the conical hat and slapped itself across Eric's mouth._

"_YEOW!" Eric wailed as he tore it off.  He rubbed his now-tender upper lip.  "I didn't need that layer of skin or anything!  Jeez, Presto, tell me the truth!  You've been secretly writing new material __hoping that we would make it back here some day!  Fine!  I take it back!"_

"Sorry," Presto placated, although his smirk remained, "It wasn't what I had in mind.  But I admit, it's kinda neat to be back in the _real magic business again!  After settling for simple slight-of-hand for so many years, I forgot how much I liked casting real spells . . . even if they didn't always work right."_

"Always?  Try _never!"_

"Come on, gang," Hank cut in, "We need to focus here."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Eric grumbled.

Hank looked up to the suns.  Only two remained in the sky.  The others had slipped below the horizon, and the travelers had only made it as far as the Wondrous Wood.  "We're not going to be able to find Tardos Keep in the dark," he said.  "Maybe we should camp here for the night."  Hank was just as reluctant as the rest of them to cease the searching, but knew that they would have a better chance to find their children come daybreak.

"I'll take first watch," Eric offered.  It seemed almost reflexive; as though they were settling back into their old routine.  The Cavalier didn't think that he would be able to sleep anyway . . . a feeling shared by all of them, although noble efforts were made all around to get some rest.  When Eric woke Diana for her turn a few hours later, she was more than ready, as sleep wasn't coming to her either.

Eric found a spot on the ground and Diana walked over to a nearby tree.  She hoisted herself onto a lowered branch and climbed a few feet for a better look at the surrounding area.  She didn't climb too high, however, so as not to distance herself too much from her companions.  After a few minutes, she heard a voice below.  "Do you think they're all right?"

Diana looked down at Eric.  "I think they're fine," she replied with quiet certainty.  "Bobby'll take care of all of them.  And we should be meeting up with them tomorrow if what Venger said is true."

"I never thought I'd say this," Eric mused, "But I wish the old Dungeon Master was here."

"I don't know," Diana said amusedly, "I don't think the little guy could have handled you slugging him half as well as Venger did!"

Eric grimaced as he remembered that encounter, then looked up at Diana's still-smiling face.  "I envy you," he said after a brief moment.  "You seem to be taking this so well."

Diana continued to smile down at him lightly.  "I know Bobby," she said with a shrug, "And Toby.  My nephew's a fighter and I know he'll keep his head till we get there.  I'm sure your son will, too."  

Eric was still uneasy, but at those comforting words, he managed to turn over and try to sleep.  Diana sat in the tree motionless for several minutes.  Her eyes scanned the camp every few seconds just as they used to.  She noticed that Teri was tossing a bit in her sleep.  Diana then glanced at Eric.  When she heard his breath evening out as a sign that the Cavalier was finally sleeping, the Acrobat's thoughts turned to her nephew . . . and she began to cry.

*          *          *

"Stay down!" Bobby ordered, and the others gathered in a huddle behind him.

"God," Toby whispered as he stared at the Orcs below, "There's like a million of them!"

"The last time we were here it was Venger who was trying to take the Keep," Bobby informed them.  "Now it looks like one of the new guys is preparing an attack."

"What's _that, Uncle Bobby?"_

Bobby followed Ayesha's pointing finger to where a vaporous form was ghosting in and out among the Orc tents.  The Barbarian narrowed his eyes at the dark specter.  "Shadow Demon," he answered in a low growl.

"I-Is it a ghost?" Varla fearfully asked.

"More like a rat," Bobby grumbled, "And a whole lot of bad news."

"You sound worried," John commented.  "Is he that bad?"

Bobby shook his head.  "It's not him I'm worried about.  Shadow Demon is a puppet -- nothing more than an opportunistic weasel.  He attaches himself to whoever, or whatever, is the most powerful force around.  It used to be Venger.  If he's down there, that can only mean that one of those . . . things . . . that we need to defeat is down there, too.  Maybe all three."  Bobby surveyed the floor of the valley again.  "I don't like this," he said.  "I think we should wait until it gets darker, then try to sneak into Tardos.  We don't know what we're up against and I don't want to risk getting spotted."

"You said you have friends here?" Ayesha asked.

Bobby exhaled thoughtfully.  "I hope so, Ayesha," he said.  "I don't know much about life spans here in the Realm.  They could all be gone.  But the last time we were here we helped save Tardos Keep from Venger.  If Queen Sulinara isn't there anymore, maybe at least someone who's heard about us will be."

As night fell, Bobby surveyed the path they would need to take in order to get through the Orc camp.  Even in the dark, the area below them still seemed to be a bustle of activity.  He shook his head in frustration.  "Looks like the graveyard shift is on," he said.  "I don't think there's going to _be a good time to get through there, even at night."  He turned to Uni.  "I hate to do this to you, girl, but is there any way you can teleport all five of us to the Keep?"_

The unicorn, as though she had been waiting for him to ask, shook her head affirmatively, but, in her eyes, Bobby could see a hint of caution.  "You can't get us all the way . . . not all of us," he guessed, to which Uni also confirmed with a shake of her head.  "It's okay," he said.  "Thank you, Uni."

As the Young Ones gathered around Uni, her alicorn began to glow brightly.  She regarded each human until they were all touching some part of her body.  Bobby had advised against anyone getting on her back, as she would most likely be very tired after transporting all of them and would need her strength to run for the safety of the Keep herself.  "I'm not sure how close we're going to get," Bobby said once they were all in place, "But as soon as we reappear, run for it!  Got it, everyone?"

"W-wait!" John whispered in protest, "What do you mean 'reappear'?"

There was no time to answer.  The light from Uni's horn increased and surrounded all of them.  The circumference of the glow expanded quickly and then shrank back in upon itself in an instantaneous flash, leaving nothing behind but the soft moan of the night air through the canyon.--

--The next thing they knew, the Young Ones were at the base of the steps leading up to Tardos Keep . . . and the soft moan of the night air had turned into the battle roar of dozens of nearby Orcs who had seen them appear.  "Up the stairs!" Bobby shouted with a wave of his arm and the children began to race toward the heavy doors of the Keep.  Uni staggered slightly, weary from her arduous teleport, but managed to gallop up the stairs behind the others.

As the Orcs began closing the gap between them and the fleeing Young Ones, Toby stopped and turned.  When Ayesha whipped her head around to see why he had stopped, he locked eyes with her.  "Keep moving!" he ordered as he uncurled his whip.  The Fighter took aim at the nearest Orc soldier and struck out with the lash, binding the Orc's legs together and yanking the whip back with a forceful tug.  The Orc toppled backward into his cohorts behind him and sent the troop of Orcs tumbling down the stairs.  Having bought some more time, Toby turned and ran to catch up with his friends.

Bobby reached the door to Tardos Keep and began to thump upon it with his club -- just enough to create a loud resonation that would, hopefully, draw the attention of those inside.  "Open up!" he shouted as the children and Uni gathered around him.  "Please!  We're old friends!  We knew Queen Sulinara!"

At the mention of the name of the former queen of Tardos, the door opened a crack.  Bobby smiled broadly as the impenetrable wood separated to allow them passage into the "fortress of strength" . . . a smile which faded upon seeing who had come to welcome them.  He had been right.  Their greeter was, indeed, someone who had heard of them.  But it was not Queen Sulinara, nor could it have been any of her descendants.  The sight that met Bobby's eyes was the pig-faced snarl of an Orc.

The Barbarian reached one protective arm in front of the children and brandished his club with the other as he backed away from the door.  _Oh, no, no, no . . . ! he thought with every step back that he took.  His mind was clouded as several thoughts flew in and out of his head: How could it be that Tardos Keep was finally taken?  How could he have led them to the wrong destination?  Where were the allies they were supposed to meet?  What made him think that he could ever take Hank's place as leader?  He had failed his sister and his friends by failing to protect their children.  __I'm so sorry, Sheila!_

A familiar sound was heard to his left -- a surging hum of electric energy.  Bobby half expected to see the Ranger at his side, but as he looked down he saw the Ranger's daughter instead, her own golden sword blazing forth.  The Barbarian knew that they hadn't failed yet.  He gripped his club tightly with both hands, met the orcish eyes in front of him with a cold stare, and unleashed a thundering battle cry as he swiped at the brute, sending him floundering back through the doors of the Keep.  Ayesha spun around quickly and sent a bolt of golden energy toward the far right of the stairs, scattering the Orcs there and opening a passage leading to a nearby crevice in the rocks.  "This way!" she shouted as she ushered Varla and John toward the cave.  The others followed close behind, with Bobby covering their backs.

Ayesha stopped to take aim at another group of Orcs who had gathered around the mouth of the cave, directing Toby and the others to continue running as she cleared the road.  The Orc soldiers leapt out of the way as the Paladin's discharge from her weapon struck the ground at their feet.

"I don't think I can do this!" Varla shouted, panicked, as she neared the cave.

"There's no time to think, Varla!  Just run!" Toby shouted back.  "It'll be okay!  We'll be right behind you!"

The Mystic uttered a silent scream as she forced herself into the darkness of the cave.

A sudden explosion sent Toby flying back from the mouth of the cavern, where he would have been the next to enter.  He hit the ground with a sickening thud and rolled several feet from the force of the explosion before looking up to see the entrance to the cave sealed by a rockslide.  He started to painfully stagger to his feet.  "VARLA!" he screamed as he made a limping dash for the boulders that were now trapping the Mystic.  "Varla, can you hear me?  _Varla!"  _

The others continued to run, horrified, to where the Fighter was attempting to pry one of the rocks away, praying that Varla was alive on the other side.  They all froze as they heard a demonic neigh above their heads.  Under the light of the Realm's three moons, they could make out a hellish figure astride a black horse.  He was dressed in crude battle armor, studded with spikes that looked to be the claws of a dragon.  A black cloak whipped about his shoulders and his right hand still blazed with the magical energy that he had sent to seal off the cave.  

It was his nightmarish face, however, that was enough to instill pure horror.  At first glance, he looked to be wearing a winged helm, similar to the Warduke's, but a bony, skeletal white.  But, unlike the Warduke's helm, which opened up to reveal glowing red eyes and a darkened space beneath, where his unseen face could be found, this one encased the being's head entirely, forming what looked to be a menacing skull of a mask.  As Toby stared fearfully at it, the creature glared down at him, its skeleton mouth curling into an evil sneer.  The Young Ones realized that this was no helm at all, but the being's actual face.

"Welcome, Young Ones," the creature snarled.  His voice was more sinister than Venger's had ever been; so deep that it seemed to originate from Hell, itself.  "It has come to our attention that you have been searching for us."

_Us?!  Bobby frantically looked around.  All three of those evil creatures must be here.  His stomach sank.  They were in real trouble._

As the Barbarian scanned the skies, another figure on horseback appeared behind them, circling above the Keep.  This one was also dressed in armor, although not as crude as had been the first's.  This armor was flawless, shiny, and black as midnight.  It was accented by a helmet topped with a red plume.  Although clearly not part of the rider's body, this mask was just as unnerving as the first, as it kept the creature's identity hidden.

The doors of Tardos Keep swung open and a third figure appeared.  At first, all Bobby could see was its silhouette, but the sight made his stomach churn.  He could make out the towering height, the cape-like batwings slightly spread, the single horn jutting out the side of its head . . . .

_Venger!  The Barbarian turned to the new arrival, enraged.  "You lied to us! You son of a--!"_

As the figure emerged into the light of the three moons, Bobby's words stopped.  "Not Venger, Barbarian," a serpentine voice hissed at him, as though he had read Bobby's mind.  "I am called Bane."  The creature was indeed dressed as the former Dark Lord, but its face was more like that of a Lizard Man -- or a being that was half dragon.  "My form was chosen to serve as a distraction."

_Distraction?  Bobby's head whipped frantically around.  __A distraction for what?  _

Suddenly there was another explosion behind them, emitted by the creature with the death mask.  The Young Ones fell to their knees and Uni reared up in terror.  A ghastly sinew whipped forward and lassoed her around her neck.  The unicorn stared, petrified, at Bane, who had shot the beam at her from the center of his hand and now started to draw her in toward the entrance of Tardos Keep.  Her alicorn glowed furiously, but she could feel her strength draining away, the magic radiating from the venomous tether stealing her ability to move anywhere but toward her attacker.  Even if she had been able to teleport more than once per day, she would not have had the strength to do so.

"UNI!" Bobby screamed as he struggled to his feet and began charging toward the door of the Keep once more.  Toby went back to wrestling with the rocks that had sealed Varla within the cave.  

"Foolish children!" the first creature snarled as he began charging his hand for yet another attack.  "You are no match for us!"  Bobby turned at the sound and saw Toby struggling with the rocks, heedless of the fact that the creature was about to fire another energy bolt directly at him.  The Barbarian opened his mouth to cry out.

"_TOBY!  WATCH OUT!"  The sound didn't come from Bobby's mouth, however.  The Barbarian watched as John Montgomery raced toward the Fighter, his medallion glowing.  The young boy positioned himself directly in front of Toby as the evil being released his power toward them.  The cloudy protective shield of the Squire that surrounded both boys for a moment was soon overtaken by the deadly energy, hiding the youths from view.  Ayesha held her breath as the magic dissipated . . . leaving an empty space where her friends had been._

"NO!" Bobby cried as he froze in his tracks, torn between saving Uni or going after the monster that had claimed Varla and now Toby and John.  His mind was made up for him as a bolt of energy was fired in his direction as well.  The Barbarian stood ready to bat it away with his club as another magical force collided with it, causing it to burst in mid air.  He looked over to see his niece readying another discharge from her sword to counter any more attacks from the creature. 

Neither one of them would have to wait long as the skeletal being's hand glowed violently again.

"Stop!" came a voice from above.  Bobby shifted his gaze to the other airborne warrior on horseback, who had remained silent until now.  "Leave him, Mordreth," it said.  "This one is mine!" 

With a gruff snarl, the creature known as Mordreth abandoned his attack and the deadly energy died down.  "Very well," he reluctantly agreed as he spurred his demonic steed and vanished into the night sky.

The Barbarian glared hotly up at the rider above him, narrowing his eyes and readying his club.  The figure raised a gauntleted hand and removed the ebony helmet, allowing a cascade of flowing tresses to spill out.  Bobby stared in disbelief.  This final member of the evil triad; the newest threat to the Realm's very existence . . . was a woman.

And a beautiful one at that.  Her hair was an impossible shade of red, almost glowing, even under the darkness of the night sky.  Her eyes, amber in color and narrowly catlike, seemed to burn into Bobby's like golden fire.  Bobby couldn't stop himself from thinking that this was probably the most exquisite creature that he had ever laid eyes on, even with all the armor that she was wearing.

The woman shifted her gaze with a light smile.  "You may take your prize and go as well, Bane," she said to the dragon creature.  "I shall handle this from here."  She turned her eyes back to Bobby, who couldn't stop himself from staring at her.  "My, my, Barbarian," she said to him, her voice sweet and tantalizing, "What a handsome young thing you've become!"

Bobby began to involuntarily lower his club slightly, a mien of confused disbelief on his face.  _This was one of the terrors that Venger was talking about?  It didn't seem possible.  The Barbarian became vaguely aware of several noises somewhere outside the realm of his mind.  He slowly began to realize that it was his niece launching attacks at Bane, trying to rescue Uni.  "Uncle Bobby!" she screamed, "What's wrong?"_

Bobby shook his head.  What the hell had just happened to him?  Without another glance at the woman above him, he turned and sped toward Ayesha.  

"Interfering fool," the woman snarled at the Paladin.  Removing one of her gauntlets, her hand began to charge with an electric energy similar to that of Mordreth.  Bobby glanced back and positioned himself in front of Ayesha as he reached her.  

"Run!" he ordered as he brought his club up.  "Go now!"  

Ayesha shook her head in protest.  "I'm not leaving you!"

"Ayesha, _go!" Bobby urged desperately as he turned to shove her away.  He heard a surging hum behind him and glanced up again to see a violent burst of electric power bearing down upon them.  On reflex, he instinctively dropped his club and grabbed his niece, clutching her to him as the energy shattered upon his back.  Bobby heard himself scream in pain as the world around him exploded into darkness._

*          *          *

"_BOBBY!"  _

Teri awoke with a tortured cry.  Sheila was the first one at her side.  Diana leapt from the tree where she had been keeping watch and joined them.  The others soon followed and gathered around the Dreamer as she sat up trembling in the Thief's arms.  "I saw it . . . I saw it . . . ," she said weakly.

"Saw what?" Presto finally voiced the question that they were all afraid to ask.

"The others . . . attacked," Teri said in a trance-like whisper, "Separated from each other."  She locked eyes with each of them, tears stinging hers.  "And I think something will happen to Bobby!"

Hank rose to his feet, looking toward the horizon in the direction of Tardos Keep.  Dawn was still a long way off.  "Let's go," he said.  "If we leave now, we can reach Tardos by morning."

*          *          *

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*** Author's Note**:  The title of this chapter was taken from the play by Eugene O'Neill.


	6. Opening Channels

**Disclaimer:  **Since its development in 1983, the animated series _Dungeons and Dragons_ has belonged to the following at some point:  Marvel Productions, TSR, Inc., Wizards of the Coast,  Saban Entertainment, (according to rumor) Disney, and possibly even others.  I guess my point is, it does not (nor has it ever) belonged to me.  Oh, well!  This story, however, does!  I hope you enjoy it!

**Rating:  ****PG_-_13 for some language and violent elements**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_LEGACY   
_Chapter 6 -- Opening Channels 

"_No, no, no, no, no, no, no . . . .  
It's so dark!  Where is everybody?  
Bobby?  Ayesha?  Toby?  John?  Uni?  
You said you'd be right behind me!  
Please don't forget me!  
Please don't leave me behind!  
Please don't leave me alone in here!  
Please, . . . please, . . . please . . . ."_

*          *          *

"What happened here?"  As dawn arose, Presto stepped lightly through the abandoned camp outside the walls of Tardos Keep.

"It looks like there was a battle," Hank guessed, keeping his voice low, "But it's hard to tell who won."  

The surrounding tents were scattered and torn.  Some were singed, some still smoking lightly.  Sheila looked around helplessly.  "You don't think Bobby and the children were part of this camp, do you?" she asked fretfully.  Hank could only frown.  Their grim surroundings left little doubt as to whether Teri's vision of the attack on Bobby and the children had, indeed, come to pass.

"Hank!  Over here!"  

The Ranger ran to the edge of the valley where Diana was hovering over something in the path.  "Look," she said as he reached her.  Along the ground below them were many sets of footprints leading out of the valley.  Diana placed her own boot into one of the extra large prints.  "Three guesses who left these.  And the first two don't count!"

"Orcs," Hank confirmed.  "They must have been trying to attack Tardos again.  But what could have happened to make them run away?"  The Ranger surveyed the camp again as the others made their way over to where he and the Acrobat were standing.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Diana said as she scrutinized the tracks again.  "These Orcs weren't running.  They were marching."

"How do you know that?" Eric asked.

Diana smirked at him.  "You can't be in sports medicine and not know a thing or two about what it looks like when somebody's running!" she said.  "Look at these strides, Eric.  They're pretty close together.  They would be a lot wider if the Orcs had been running.  And they would be a _lot more erratic if they had been running for their lives!  It looks like they were marching in groups of two or three."_

Hank agreed and pointed to them further.  "Look how deep the footprints sink into the earth.  The Orcs were probably weighed down with supplies, too."

The Cavalier nodded.  "So, what, they were moving out?  Without taking control of Tardos Keep?  Venger certainly wouldn't have stood for that!"

Presto bit his bottom lip.  "Unless they got what they came here for," he guessed.

"I know this place," Teri finally spoke up.

"How could you?" Sheila asked as she turned to face the Dreamer.  "You were never here with us."

"It was in my dream last night," Teri explained.  "This is were I saw Bobby and the others when they were attacked."

"You mean the kids did this?" Presto asked as he glanced about the wrecked camp again.  "_Oh, Varla!" he breathed._

"They certainly put up one hell of a fight," Diana added.  "So, where are they now?"

Hank and the others walked over to Teri and surrounded her.  "Maybe you should tell us everything that you saw," he said.

*          *          *

The Mystic continued to huddle in the darkness of the cave, her knees pulled into her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them.  How long had she been there?  Hours?  It felt like days.  Immediately after being trapped within the rock, Varla had been frightened by the sound of explosions and yelling from outside, but had grown even more terrified at the eerie silence that followed; especially when none of her friends appeared to get her out.  Her mind reeled with fear, wondering what had happened to them . . . and what would now happen to her.

For a while, she knew she had been hallucinating, imagining that she was back in the closet of her father's house.  After a long time, her fitful crying ceased and the young girl fell into a rhythmic rocking.  She swayed back and forth, clutching herself to keep from trembling apart.  

It was so dark.  The kind of dark her eyes couldn't adjust to because there was not even a glint of light.  It was night when she was sealed in here, but it had to have reached daytime by now.  That thought scared Varla all the more.  If all the light was shut out of her prison, would the air be the next to go?  The Mystic began taking labored breaths just thinking about it.

Some time ago, she had heard a noise, like a scurrying across the gravel near her.  After that, she had remained motionless, in a seated fetal position, not even daring to rock.  What could be in here with her?  Varla didn't even want to think about the kinds of creatures that must live in this world.  Like a child lying frozen in bed, afraid that the slightest movement would call the monsters out from under it, she sat as still as a stone, not wanting to attract the attention of whatever thing might be in the cave with her.  

Such was Varla's situation.  She couldn't see, she didn't dare move, and soon she wasn't sure if she would still be able to breathe.  It seemed the only thing left for her to do . . . was pray.  

". . . _Oh, Varla!"_

A voice cut through the Mystic's thoughts like lightning and her tightly squeezed eyes suddenly flew open.  Even though it was still pitch black in the cave, she looked in all directions, her heart in her throat as she frantically searched for the source of the words.  Was there someone else in there, too?  Or was she really hallucinating now?  She must be, because there was no way she could have heard that voice.  It was--

"P-Presto?"

Varla willed herself out of the tight ball she had curled herself into.  Her voice squeaked as she uttered her adopted father's name – the name she usually called him.  Stretching her stiff arms down to her sides, she touched something on the ground beside her.  Her fingers immediately recoiled, until she realized that it was her twig-like wand.  She wrapped her hand around it and clutched it firmly.

She remembered what Venger had said to her about being naturally touched with magic, about how her father understood that as well, about how confidence in her own abilities was a big part of getting that magic to work.  She gripped the wand tightly in both hands.  Even though Presto was a world away, she couldn't help but feel that a little bit of his magic was there with her.  The same magic that had led her to him after she was taken away from her abusive father; the same magic that had made her time with Presto and Maggie the best of her life; the magic that gave her a family.  Varla was determined to get that back.  She pointed her wand toward the rocks in front of her and the tip began to glow.

At first, her light-deprived eyes squinted at the dim glow from the wand.  It was a thankful sight.  Rising to her feet, she concentrated hard on the boulders and what she wanted them to do.  She remembered Venger's words as he bestowed the Young Ones' weapons to them: "_All of your weapons possess great strength.  You will discover that they have many uses, limited only by your own will and heart."  Right now, Varla willed the rocks to move.  She knew it __could be done, but she hadn't been able to use the wand effectively yet.  __Who am I kidding?  It's hardly worked at all! she thought.  But it was her only chance._

A slight rumble filled the cave and startled Varla.  Her concentration wavered as her stomach did a flip-flop.  The light from her wand died down.  The Mystic felt momentarily defeated.  She didn't have the strength to do this.  But, with no one else here and no idea as to what had happened to her friends outside, her own strength was all she had.  If she ever wanted to see Presto and Maggie again, she _had to do this!  Varla dug her feet into the earth and locked her elbows as she pointed her wand toward the boulders once more.  It began to glow a second time._

"Come on!" she muttered, "Open sesame!"

This time, as the rumbling began again, Varla held on to her concentration and pressed harder with her spell.  She grit her teeth, but still felt that it wasn't enough.  She needed help.  "Presto! . . . _Daddy!" she prayed as sweat ran down her temples, "Please, help me!"  Her grip on her wand tightened as a bright light filled the chamber._

*          *          *

Presto's face blanched suddenly and he teetered a bit on his feet.  Hank reached out to grab him.  "You okay, pal?" the Ranger asked as Presto tried to steady himself.

"I-I think," the Magician answered, shaking his head.

"What happened?" Sheila said with concern.

"I don't know," Presto replied as the others turned to him.  "It was really weird.  I felt something in my head . . . like pain, or a struggle, or a cry for help . . . and then I just didn't have the power to stand anymore."  Presto managed to straighten up, but Hank kept a hold on his friend.  "The last time I felt something like that," Presto added, "It was with--"

The Magician was cut off as a loud explosion echoed through the canyon.  Off to the right, part of the rock wall had blown away, scattering pieces of boulder like shrapnel through Tardos Valley.  The Young Ones' weapons glowed brightly as, after the initial duck-and-cover reflex prompted by the explosion, they advanced on the newly formed cave in the canyon wall.  A small figure stumbled out of it and onto the ground.

Presto's eyes suddenly became wide as saucers.  He wrenched himself out of Hank's grip and broke into an awkward run toward the prone figure.  "Varla!" he shouted.

He slid to his knees beside his daughter and turned her over.  She didn't appear conscious.  Preston Myers, the doctor, checked Varla quickly for injuries before Preston Myers, the father, was able to sweep the girl up into his arms with a grateful gasp.  "Thank God, thank God, thank God . . . ." he repeated over and over as he clutched her tightly to him.

The others gathered around him.  Eric placed a hand on Presto's shoulder as the Magician gently rocked the dazed Varla.  "Is she okay?" he asked.

Presto nodded without looking up.  "She's exhausted," he answered.  "Completely drained.  But she's not hurt."

Eric felt some relief at that.  But part of him, for as happy as he was that his best friend had his daughter back, couldn't bury the anxiety that bubbled up within him at noticing that the rest of the kids had not followed Varla out of the cave.  His own son was nowhere to be found.

Varla whimpered weakly and Presto released her a bit.  As the Mystic's eyes slowly opened, they blearily began to focus on the face in front of her.  She gazed first at the green, conical hat, then at the wire-rimmed glasses, then at the golden eyes behind the lenses . . . .

A feeble squeak sounded from the young girl's throat and her own eyes welled up with tears as she studied Presto's face.  "Daddy?" she asked, forming her question as though she half expected him to disappear any second.

Presto pulled her into another firm hug, relief washing over him like a deluge.  He smiled joyfully.  Varla, after all, had only been living with he and his wife for a little over a year and usually called him '_Presto,' like Maggie did.  But not today.  "Hey, Princess," he whispered, "Daddy's here.  Everything's going to be okay now."  He stroked Varla's red hair as she threw her arms around his neck and began to sob on his shoulder.  "I'll tell you what, though," he added with a smile, "You and I are going to have a little talk later about how you ditched your mother back at the park!"_

After a few minutes, Varla pulled away from Presto.  "How did you get here?  How did you find me?"

Eric answered that one.  "Piece of cake, Kiddo.  I got on the horn and called Dial-A-Portal and--" 

Diana elbowed Eric in the ribs.  "Shhh, Cavalier," she warned, "Not now."

Presto sighed.  "The park," he said, "The _Dungeons and Dragons_ ride.  Just like you."

Varla sat up and, for the first time, scrutinized Presto's clothing, along with those of the others.  "So this is what you looked like!" she said with a smile.  "Bobby said--"

"Varla," Sheila cut in as she knelt down beside the girl, placing a tender hand on her shoulder, "Where _are Bobby and the others?"_

Varla suddenly looked frightened again as she glanced around the demolished campsite.  "We were supposed to meet allies here," she began.  "At least that was what Venger -- er -- Dungeon Master said.  Bobby thought that Queen Sulinara would be able to help us."

Hank nodded as he looked toward Tardos Keep.  "So let's ask her," he said as he began to stride past Varla toward the edifice.  

The Mystic grabbed the bottom hem of his tunic as he walked past.  "No!" she pleaded in a hushed whisper.

"What is it?" Presto asked.

"The only thing in that fortress is more of those horrible, green, pig things!"

"Orcs," the Ranger said hotly.  "Someone finally succeeded at taking the Keep!"

"One of those three new threats, no doubt," Diana added.  She raised her staff, which hummed with a jade-green glow, and wondered why, if the new enemy had taken control of Tardos, hadn't anyone been sent out here to attack them.  Something must be going on inside.

"What happened to the others, Varla?" Eric began coaxing, a bit impatiently.  "Where's John?"

The Mystic's eyes filled with tears again at her inability to answer that question.  "I don't know," she admitted.  "The last thing I remember is Toby yelling at me to get inside the cave.  Then the entrance came crashing down before they could follow me in.  I heard a lot of shouting and explosions, but I didn't see anything after that.  I-I'm sorry."  Presto held his daughter again as she began to cry.

Teri had listened carefully to as much of the story as Varla had been able to tell.  It was so eerily familiar, she could have filled in the rest as though recalling events from a movie.  "Everyone?" she said quietly to get their attention.  Some of the color drained from the Dreamer's cheeks as she realized that her vision had been right.  "Varla may not have seen what happened, but I did!"

*          *          *

Varla's eyes remained transfixed on Teri as the Dreamer relayed the events that had occurred in her dream; everything that had happened while Varla was trapped inside the cave.  The Mystic shuddered at the idea that her greatest fear had saved her.  Being trapped in the blackness of that cave was the only thing that had kept her from being taken by one of those evil creatures like the rest of her friends.  Even though she was very afraid for them, she felt more confident now that Presto and the others were here.  They must have been the allies that Venger had said they would find.  Varla had the feeling that her father would make everything all right now.

The group had moved out of Tardos Valley so as to avoid being seen from the Keep.  If what Varla said was true and Tardos had been taken by the Realm's new force of evil, there was a good chance that they could be spotted, if they weren't being watched already.  They sat on the ground and listened to the Dreamer's narration. 

"So," Eric said after Teri finished, "Where are they now?"

Teri shook her head.  "I didn't see that in my dream, Eric," she answered regretfully.  "I can only see what's going to happen or what might happen, not what's going on right now."  Her eyes welled up again as her mind replayed the vision of what had happened to Bobby.

"Great!" the Cavalier wailed, "We know they're gone, but we don't know where!  Man!  I never thought I say this, but what I wouldn't give for one of DM's stupid riddles right now!  At least then we would have something . . . _anything . . . to help us find our kids!"_

Varla looked from Eric to Presto, who was sitting beside her.   "Maybe I can help," she said.

Presto stared at her, wide-eyed.  He had just realized that he had never inquired as to what kind of weapon or power each of the new Young Ones had received from Venger.  "How're you going to do that?" he asked.

Varla held up her crooked wand.  "Magic, I guess," she said. 

*          *          *

"A Mystic?" Presto asked after his daughter had finished briefly explaining what had happened to them so far.  "You're telepathic?"

Varla nodded.  

"So that was you I heard calling out to me right before the cave blew open," he mused further.  When his daughter nodded again, Presto smiled.  "The last thing I remember thinking before Hank had to grab me was that I wanted to help whoever it was that was calling to me."

"Varla must have been able to borrow some of your power," Sheila said.  "That's very impressive!"

"I just don't know if it will be enough to find the others," Varla confessed sadly.  "Venger said that I already had the ability, and that being in the Realm would strengthen it."  She looked at Presto.  "Like you.  He said you could teach me.  Can you, Presto?  I don't think I can do it without you."

The Magician looked surprised.  "I don't know, Honey," he said.  "I never did any real magic until after I got this hat . . . and even then it didn't always work right."

"Now, don't you go falling back into that old attitude, Presto!" Diana said.  "You know your magic always worked better when you believed in it!"

"Venger said that, too," Varla added.  "He said that confidence in one's ability has a lot to do with it."

"Besides," Hank said to Presto, "You know quite well that you don't need your hat to do magic.  Remember when you banished the dragons from the town of Helix?"

Presto was forced to smile.  Although his original plan was to encourage Varla so she wouldn't make his initial mistake of not believing in herself, the memories of the times that his magic had actually worked also succeeded at building up his own assurance.

"Thanks, guys," he said with a grateful wink as he put an arm around Varla.  He looked down at the girl.  "I know you can do it too, Honey," he said, giving her a gentle squeeze.  "You sure made short work of that cave!"

The Mystic contorted her face disappointedly.  "I really just wanted to _move the rocks, not blow them up.  I still don't have a lot of control over what I do."_

"So, you don't just read minds," Eric guessed.

Varla shook her head.  "I guess this wand allows my mind to channel what I want certain objects to do," she said as she held up the dainty stick.  "I can move things, apparently I can blow stuff up . . . .  Venger said that the weapons had all kinds of uses; we just have to figure out what they are."

Eric nudged Presto.  "She can read thoughts _and move stuff with her mind," he announced dramatically.  "Better watch, buddy, you've got a regular Jean Grey on your hands!"_

Presto cocked an eyebrow at the Cavalier.  "Never did grow out of those comics, did you, Eric?"

"They're classics, thank you very much!" Eric retorted with a triumphant air.

"Ah, yes!  The all-time literary greats!" Diana chortled, "William Shakespeare, J. D. Salinger, Robert Frost, . . . and Mr. Stan Lee!"

Eric flashed an impressed smile.  "I see you know his work!"  Diana rolled her eyes in response and turned back to Varla.

"What about the others, Varla?" she asked.  "What kind of weapons did they get?"  There was some worry in that question.  Although it could have been asked merely as a curiosity, the Acrobat wanted some assurance that the children could take care of themselves until she and the others could find them.  

"Venger called Toby a 'Fighter' and gave him a magic whip," Varla began, "Bobby has the same club that, I guess, he had before.  Ayesha is a 'Paladin' and she has a light sword, and--"  The Mystic stopped suddenly.  Her eyes had settled on Eric, or more specifically, at the shield on the ground at his side.  "I know that," she said softly.

The Cavalier followed her glare and picked up his shield.  "What?  This?"

Varla reached forward and touched the griffin in the center.  "John was wearing this," she explained, "On his tunic.  And he has a medallion around his neck that creates an invincible barrier.  It has this symbol on it, too."  She looked the Cavalier in the eye.  "He must be _your Squire!"_

"He's a what?" Eric asked.

"A Squire," Varla answered.

Eric laughed slightly.  "I think the new DM's got his signals crossed," he said.  "I always imagined 'John Harlan Montgomery, _Esquire,' but not 'John Harlan Montgomery, __the Squire'!"  A corner of his mouth turned upward at his lighthearted attempt at a joke, but his voice betrayed the fact that Eric was very worried about his son.  He swallowed hard._

Hank placed a hand on his shoulder.  "What do you say we try this, then?" he said as he turned to Varla.  The girl looked, a bit self-consciously, at the rest of them before gripping her wand and closing her eyes, trying to focus.  After a few seconds, she opened them again.  "I don't feel anything," she whispered apologetically.  "I don't think I can do this."

"Yes, you can, Varla," Presto urged.

"I _can't," the girl said with a catch in her throat._

Presto's voice was suddenly stern.  "You can do this, Varla," he said.  "You did it in that cave back in the valley before you even knew that I was here!  You believed in yourself and you did it!"  The Magician's tone then softened as he closed his fist around her hands as they gripped the magic wand.  "I'm right here with you.  I know you can do this," he repeated as he squeezed her hands gently.

The Mystic nodded and closed her eyes a second time.  The tip of the wand began to glow with a soft light as her mind searched for the others.  After a few minutes, she heard something.  "_Help me please, young Mystic!"_

Varla was startled, but didn't break her concentration.  "Who is that?"  She didn't recognize the voice.  A melodious woman's voice.  "Do I know you?"

"_No, I suppose you wouldn't know my voice, child, but I have been with you throughout your journey."_

"Uni?  Is that _you?"_

"_Indeed, Varla."_

"You can talk?"

"_I am not really speaking, Mystic.  You are reading my thoughts.  Not even Bobby has ever heard me like this."_

"Where are you, Uni?  Presto and his friends are here with me.  We'll come find you!"

"_I am being held captive inside Tardos Keep by the creature Bane.  He is the Dark Lord of the Plague and has ravaged much of the Realm with his poison.  He began his conquest here at Tardos by wreaking havoc on their crop of Dragonbane and has since spread his evil throughout the rest of the Realm."_

"Did he hurt you?"

"_He has not harmed me yet.  But he desires a steed for himself -- and he wishes to claim the Dungeon Master's mount as his own.  He is making preparations now and plans to infect me with his poison as well.  I am bound by a magical tether that prevents me from teleporting.  Please, Varla, you and your friends must help me!"_

"What about the others?  Where are they?"

"_Your friends have been taken by Bane's consociates.  Toby and John are being held by Mordreth, the Dark Lord of Destruction, in a reconstruction of Venger's former fortress to the West.  Mordreth has annihilated countless cities of the Realm and slaughtered thousands who have stood against him without the slightest hesitation.  He was created from the depths of the Nameless One's mind that desires only to reap death for His own pleasure.  _

"_Bobby and Ayesha are to the South, captives in the Citadel of War.  Their abductor is named Kadysse, a vile witch and wicked siren.  She has caused a myriad of wars by seducing the minds of warriors, inducing them to fight for her.  Kingdoms that have remained allies for centuries are destroying each other in her name every day.  Each of your friends are in tremendous peril, Varla!  You and the others must help them!"_

"How, Uni?  And how can we reach you?  Tell me!"  Varla was met only with silence.  "_Uni?"  She opened her eyes and looked at the others.  "I've lost her," she said._

"Lost who?" Sheila asked.  Varla realized that the conversation had occurred within her own mind and that the others had not heard it.

"Uni," she answered, "She's a prisoner of one of those evil creatures inside Tardos Keep."

"Oh, so we'll have the runty unicorn tagging along again!" Eric grumbled.  "That animal was never anything but trouble!"

"Well," Varla offered, "She did manage to tell me where the others are!"

Eric shrugged affirmatively.  "Like I said, I love that little critter!"  He gave a taut chuckle as his friends eyed him amusedly.

"So, Varla," Hank prompted, turning back to the Mystic, "Where can we find the others?"

As Varla explained what Uni had conveyed to her, Sheila's face became more and more worried.  "Good Lord, Hank," she breathed, "What are we going to do?"

"I'll tell you what I'm doing," Eric announced as he rose to his feet, "I'm going West . . . after my son."

Diana rose up to stand beside him.  "_We're heading West, you mean!" she asserted.  "Toby is there, too!"_

Hank nodded in reluctant agreement.  "You're right, Eric," he said to the Cavalier, "We need to split up.  Sheila and I will head South for Bobby and Ayesha."

"And me!" Teri chimed in.

"It's going to be too dangerous, Teri," Hank protested, "And you don't have a weap--"

"I don't care, Hank," the Dreamer insisted, "I refuse to stand by and do nothing when Bobby needs my help!"

"Bobby will never forgive me if you get hurt," Hank warned.

Teri's eyes sparked like flint at the Ranger.  "You didn't see what happened to him like I did, Hank," she said, almost in a growl.  "I will _not play the helpless girlfriend!  He made a huge sacrifice for me the last time I was here.  I refuse to do less for him!  I'm going!"_

Hank stood silent for a moment before reluctantly yielding.  "Okay, Teri," he said softly.

Varla glanced imploringly up at her father.  "Somebody has to stay here and help Uni," she said to Presto.  "Bane is going to try and cast some awful spell on her!"

Presto draped an arm across her shoulders and looked at Hank.  "We'll stay," he said.

The Ranger looked at the suns in the sky.  "Okay then," he said, "We have enough light to make some good distance."  He slipped an arm around Sheila's waist as they looked to the South.  "We'll find them," he promised her.

Diana and Eric took leave of everyone and began making their way West.  The Cavalier turned to raise a hand of good luck to Presto and Varla, then walked along beside the Acrobat.  "Do you think they'll be okay?" he asked.

"Are you kidding?" Diana said, "This is your son and my nephew we're talking about!  I'm sure they can handle it till we get there!"

Eric felt some reassurance at this and walked for a few more seconds in silence.

"Of course," Diana began again, "This _is your son and my nephew we're talking about!"_

"What are you getting at?" Eric inquired.

"Well," Diana explained with a wry smile, "I'm sure, with those weapons they were given, they can take on any Orc or random 'force-of-evil' that this Realm throws at them . . . .  That is, if they don't kill _each __other, first!"_

*          *          *

Before Bobby even opened his eyes, he felt the surge of pain remnant from the attack at Tardos.  Even though the intense ache was still there, flooding his body, he still had to think for a moment about what had happened; as though the pain wasn't truly real until he remembered how he had come by it.

It didn't take long.

_Ayesha! he thought.  What had happened to her?  Was she all right?  Did she manage to escape?  Worrying about his niece didn't make his present condition any more bearable, but it did help the Barbarian to focus on something other than his own physical agony._

As he fought his way back to consciousness, Bobby became aware of the fact that he was in a standing position, his arms bound, stretched apart on either side of his body.  That certainly didn't help ease the pain either.  He struggled momentarily to finally open his eyes.

"Back to join the realm of consciousness, I see!"

Bobby's eyes opened fully at the sound of the voice.  He managed to lift his drooped head and gaze at the person in front of him who had just spoke.  He recognized her the moment he laid eyes on her . . . although the woman before him looked very different now than she had back at Tardos Keep.

She had the same fiery red hair, the same golden feline eyes.  But now, instead of armor, she wore a midnight black gown.  The dress seemed to suit such a beguiling, and yet such a dark, woman.  The bodice was low cut and covered with a sheer, web-like shawl that laid over it and extended down her arms to form pointed sleeves.  The open weave of it was almost as though it could have been woven by Lloth, the demon spider queen herself.  The bottom half of the dress clung closely to the woman's body and revealed much of her leg to her upper thigh as she took a deliberate step toward Bobby.  Her eyes met his and the young man shivered involuntarily.

"I am glad, Barbarian, to see you finally awake," she said, her voice just as soft and alluring as Bobby remembered.

"How do you know me?" he labored, a groan of pain still present in his voice.

She held her eyes on him and stepped forward again, her lips parting slightly before speaking.  "My Master knows you," she whispered in a voice that was strangely both husky and soft, "And your friends.  Quite well, in fact."  She turned to step to the side of him, but kept visual contact through lidded eyes.  "I have been looking forward to meeting you for some time."

Bobby narrowed his eyes at the woman, but was unable to break his gaze entirely.  "Who are you?" he asked.

"I am Kadysse," she replied with a slight smile, "Someone you shall come to know quite well, Barbarian."

Bobby ignored her.  "Where's Ayesha?" he demanded.

Kadysse tossed her flowing mane as she took another step toward the manacled Barbarian.  "Do not trouble yourself over the whereabouts of the girl," she said.  "There are far more important things for you and I to discuss."

Bobby managed to tear his eyes away from her and look to the chains that bound him.  They were glowing with a golden magic.  He jerked his arms in a futile attempt to free them before looking back at Kadysse.  "What do you want?" he asked.

The woman raised an amused eyebrow and slowly curled a corner of her mouth upward.  Bobby felt an intense pain in his head and stifled an agonized grunt through gritted teeth.  He felt himself drifting out again.  "I thought _that would be obvious, Barbarian," she hissed, her voice far away as her amber eyes flashed.  "I want you!"_

*          *          *

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued . . . .


	7. Random Hearts

**Disclaimer:  **Since its development in 1983, the animated series _Dungeons and Dragons_ has belonged to the following at some point:  Marvel Productions, TSR, Inc., Wizards of the Coast,  Saban Entertainment, (according to rumor) Disney, and possibly even others.  I guess my point is, it does not (nor has it ever) belonged to me.  Oh, well!  This story, however, does!  I hope you enjoy it!

**Rating:  ****PG_-_13 for some language and violent elements**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LEGACY   
Chapter 7 -- Random Hearts 

Teri sat by the campfire that Hank built after the descending darkness had forced them to stop for the night.  The three had walked for hours, mostly in silence, none of them wishing to speculate as to what might be happening to their loved ones.  Instead, when they did speak, they talked of other things.  Sheila wondered outwardly what time it was back home and whether or not her folks had returned to the house yet.  Hank assured her that very little time had probably passed and optimistically pledged that they would get back in plenty of time.  After all, the last time they were in the Realm it had felt like years.  This time, so far, it had only been two days.  The Thief refrained from saying that that was two days too long without knowing what had happened to her brother and her daughter -- Realm-time or not.

The Dreamer had offered to take the first watch, afraid that sleeping would mean seeing something horrible happening to Bobby or one of the children; something that they would, once again, arrive too late to prevent.  The young woman had never felt more helpless in her life.  Bobby's smiling face kept entering her thoughts, even when she wasn't sleeping.  

The few times that she did, unintentionally, doze off, her only visions were of a blackened, dreamless void.  And for as terrifying as the dreams had been up to now, the absence of them sent an even more chilling shiver through her.  Like there was nothing left to see.  She began to lightly rock back and forth, hugging herself tightly, to drive the sleep away.

After a few hours, Sheila nudged her.  "I can take over now," the Thief offered.

"I'm not tired," Teri insisted with a shake of her head.  She brought her knees in closer to her chest and stared at the campfire.  Rather than arguing with her, Sheila instead took a seat beside the Dreamer.

"You're afraid of what you might see," Sheila guessed as she looked at the weariness behind Teri's eyes.  The other girl made no response.  Sheila sighed and continued.  "I know it's hard, Teri, but Venger said that you carried your greatest asset with you.  Your dreams may be the one thing that can lead us to Bobby and Ayesha."

"You don't understand," Teri countered quietly.  "You don't know what it feels like to see something happen and then arrive too late to prevent it.  And it's happened three times so far.  I couldn't help him in the park, we didn't reach the Realm before he and the others left the canyon, and outside Tardos Keep . . . when I saw . . . ."  Teri stopped, choking on her words, and gripped her eyes to prevent the tears from leaking out.

Sheila placed her arm across Teri's back and drew her in close.  She was right.  None of them could begin to know the ramifications of the dreams or the effects they had on the girl herself.  The Thief began to feel a bit selfish.  She wanted so badly to find her brother and her daughter; but the dreams, although they were likely the best way, certainly took their emotional toll on Teri.  They were very difficult for the girl to see.  "It's okay," Sheila muttered with sorrowful reassurance.  "It's okay, Teri.  We'll find them and they're going to be just fine."  Although the mother and sister inside her were both frantic, Sheila needed her words to calm Teri's fears right now.

Teri eased away from Sheila and gazed at the fire once again.  "I hope you're right," she whispered as she remembered her last dream.  She could still hear the Barbarian's cry of pain as Kadysse's magic exploded upon him, and she winced.  "I don't know what scares me more," she continued, "Having those terrible dreams about Bobby and the others . . . or the fact that I _haven't had a single one since!"_

Sheila tried not to show how unnerved she had become by Teri's last statement and stared at the fire herself.

"I just wish that there was some way to let him know that we're here," Teri went on.  "I want him to know that he's not alone."  Teri's hand lightly gripped the collar of her shirt and her fingers sought something underneath at her throat.  "I love him, Sheila," she whispered.  "I always have."

The Thief smiled knowingly and shifted her gaze to Teri.  She noticed a dim light glowing beneath the Dreamer's collar, where her fingers were.  "Teri?" she asked, "What's that?"

Teri glanced down and took out what she had been handling -- a small, heart-shaped pendant on a chain around her neck.  "I remember that," Sheila said.  "It's glowing, Teri!"

The Dreamer nodded.  "It's been doing that since Venger gave you guys your weapons," she replied, "Off and on."  As she held it in her hand, the light died down.  "I remember when Bobby gave this back to me," Teri laughed as she relayed the story to Sheila.  "It was, like, the day right after everything happened in the Realm, after Bobby sent me back.  It was about noon and I was coming out of class.  I had been miserable the whole day . . . thinking about all of you, and what had happened, and worrying about whether or not you were all right . . . .  And suddenly I heard this voice."  Teri smiled and shook her head, casting her eyes to the night sky.  

"_Hey, Teri!  You lose somethin'?" she said, imitating Bobby's words in a voice much deeper than his would have been at the time.  "I just dropped everything and ran to him.  I couldn't even tell you what happened after that.  I didn't care!  All I cared about was that he was home.  It was one of the happiest moments of my life."  She looked down at the pendant again.  "I can only think of one other time that it's ever been off my neck since."  _

Sheila reached out and took the heart between her own fingertips.  "Why was it glowing?" she asked.

"I don't know," Teri admitted, "But ever since Bobby gave it back to me, I've felt connected to him through it.  I've been telling myself that the light means he's thinking about me . . . or, at the very least, that he's all right.  It keeps me from going nuts with worry.  Do you think that's crazy?"

Sheila smiled gently.  "No," she said, "You're definitely not crazy.  And I know that my brother, wherever he is right now, he _is thinking about you.  Because I know for a fact that he loves you, too."  She once again wrapped her arm around Teri.  "And it doesn't matter what this Realm throws at him.  Bobby fights for the people that he loves.  He's going to do everything in his power to keep Ayesha safe, and he won't stop until he comes back to you.  He did it before . . . and he'll do it again.  I promise you."_

While she was speaking, Sheila felt Teri relax against her shoulder.  Perhaps the Dreamer was more tired than she had let on, because it wasn't long before Sheila knew that the girl was sleeping.  Instead of easing Teri down to the ground, the Thief allowed her to remain leaning against her, offering as much comfort as she could to her brother's troubled girlfriend and receiving it in return at the girl's closeness.  She sighed and looked to the South, down the path that they would be traveling come morning.  "Please, Bobby," she whispered, invoking her brother, "You come back to her.  You and Ayesha please come back to all of us!"

*          *          *

"Are you gonna help me here or not!"  Toby had been feeling around the base of the cell wall, searching for loose rocks in the hopes of tunneling a way out.  

"Maybe I would if I didn't think you were totally wasting your time!" John grumbled.  The boy sat a few feet away on the damp hay of the prison, his chin cupped in one hand, staring listlessly ahead.  "We're never gonna get out of here."

Toby straightened up and scowled at the Squire.  "This from a kid who's used to getting his way!  What's the matter, Montgomery?  Don't you want to get outta this place?"

John uncrossed his legs and rested his elbows on his knees, glaring up at the Fighter.  "Well, I guess I figure since it's your fault I'm in this mess, I'll let you handle it!"

"_Excuse me!?" Toby came back, "How is it my fault?  And what's all this '__I'm in this mess' crap?  Last I saw, we were in it together, buddy!"_

John shrugged.  "Well, that creep was aiming for you," he stated.  "If I hadn't rushed over to save your butt, you might have been part of the canyon wall right now!"

"Oh, _yeah!" Toby rebutted.  "And our present situation is __so much better!  I thought that stupid weapon of yours was supposed to protect us from things like this!"_

John got to his feet to stand toe-to-toe with the Fighter.  "It kept us from getting fried, didn't it?" he growled.  "How was I supposed to know that the jerk's magic was just gonna surround my shield and teleport us here?  And I didn't see your Indiana Jones knock-off-of-a-weapon come in any handier!"

"At least I'm trying to find a way out of here!" Toby returned as he faced the wall again, searching for loose stones, "Which is more than I can say for you!  Or are you just used to having everything done for you?"

When Toby received no answer he turned and faced John once more.  The Squire was seated on the dank ground again with his back to the Fighter.  The boy's shoulders were slumped over and, although they weren't shaking and Toby could fairly ascertain that John wasn't crying, the youth's body language communicated a despair that went beyond what sobs could convey.  Toby's face softened a bit.  "Look, man, I--"

"What's your problem, anyway?" John asked, cutting him off.  "Since we met you've done nothing but ride me about my family -- but you don't know anything about me."

Frowning, Toby pursed his lips and strode over to where John was sitting.  He sat down with his back facing the Squire.  "Well, you haven't exactly been too willing to share," he said, a bit more quietly this time.  "Except for what Varla said about you, I admit it, I don't know much.  But you didn't want to talk about it."  John didn't answer and only hunched his shoulders farther forward.  "Look," Toby continued, "I'm sorry, okay.  I won't jump to any more conclusions.  We don't have anything here except for time, so how about you tell me a little bit about yourself right now."

John straightened and looked over at Toby.  "Only if it will keep you off my back, finally," he muttered.  "If you want to know the truth, I hate that my dad has money."

"Get outta town!" Toby laughed.  "How is that possible?"

"Don't get me wrong," John shrugged, "I don't mind _having money, but it seems like my dad and my grandpa are so busy making it that he's never around.  Dad says all the time that he does it for me, but I'd really just rather have him show up for one of my hockey games, you know?"  _

Toby nodded.  He couldn't exactly say that he understood or could relate to John's situation, but he could empathize nonetheless.  

"My dad thinks that sending Cassie in his place makes up for it, but, you know, it would be totally awesome to have him there," John continued.  He then turned his face completely away from Toby.  "My mom died when I was born," he said.  "I think my dad gives me all this stuff so I wouldn't miss having her around."

"He probably keeps himself busy so he wouldn't miss her either," Toby offered gently.

John shrugged again.  "I just wish I could see him more.  It's not that I don't think he loves me or anything, I know he does.  But if he would make an appearance at something that's important to me it would make it easier to believe."

Toby smiled and turned a bit where he sat so he could place a hand on John's shoulder.  "You know what, pal?" he said, "After hearing the stories that my Aunt Di told me, and especially after what Bobby told us, I think your dad is capable of a lot more than you give him credit for.  There's no way he could have done all the things that Bobby said he did and come out only focused on some bottom line."  The Fighter's smile widened even more.  "You know what I think?"

The Squire finally faced the other boy.  "What?"

"I think there's a reason that we were brought here -- and it's not just to deal with these three forces of evil.  I think that once you get home, you'll have something to really talk to your dad about; something that he can relate to.  Maybe you're here to establish a connection with him.  This Realm is something that not a lot of people have in common.  But you and your dad will have that."

"Yeah," John agreed, limply at first, before raising his head to look at the cell around him with more determination.  "Now all we have to do is get outta here!"

"That's more like it!" Toby exclaimed.  "Now are you gonna help me or what?"

"I only wish those bozo Orcs didn't take my medallion," John lamented as he tried to help Toby to survey the wall.  "You must've checked this wall a million times by now!  This is getting us nowhere." 

"What would you have done, Squire?" Toby retorted.  "It's not like you could have 'force-fielded' you way out of this cell!"  The boy shot the Fighter a dirty look and the latter held up his hands in a defensive gesture.  "Okay!  Okay!" he placated, "I admit that my whip probably wouldn't do much good either."  He stopped and stepped back from the wall.  "What we need is a real weapon."

John stopped as well.  "That's it!" the boy cried.  He started fumbling with his empty scabbard.  

"What's 'it'?" Toby asked.

"Venger said that the weapon in this holster would appear when it was needed!" John answered.  "I'd say we need it now, wouldn't you?"  The Squire gripped and shook the sheath in the hopes of making whatever weapon was hidden inside appear.

"He also said that the weapon in there wasn't meant for you, John," Toby reminded him.  "Why don't you let me try?"  He reached out for the scabbard on the Squire's belt, which John reluctantly released.

"Okay," the young boy relinquished, "But if it actually works for you, I quit this squire stuff!"

Toby's fingers reached toward the sheath and closed into a fist as though gripping the hilt of a sword.  As he drew his hand away from the Squire's belt, it remained empty, however.  "No good," he said with a shake of his head.  "I guess we don't need it enough."

"You've gotta be kidding me!" John whined.  "And just when would we need it more?  When we're . . . ?"

"Quiet in there, you!"

The Squire was silenced by the rumbling voice and menacing snort of an enormous Orc who had appeared in the window of their cell.  "Great," he muttered a bit indiscreetly, "Bacon Brains is back!"

The Orc, clearly angered by John's insolence, rapped loudly on the door of the cell.  "Quiet, humans!" he ordered again.

"How about letting us out?" Toby asked sarcastically.  "We'll be as quiet as a mice!" 

The Orc's pigish snout curled into a sneer.  "You be let out soon," he assured them.  "Master Mordreth want to see you.  Then you be let out!"  The Orc smashed his fist against the barred window of the cell and trudged away with a defining snort, leaving the two Young Ones with nothing to do but wait.

John turned to Toby.  "What are we gonna do now?" he asked with a hint of desperation.

Toby looked determined.  "I don't know about you, but I'm not too keen on having an audience with this Mordreth guy," he said as he watched the Orc go.  "I think I have a plan . . . if you can work with me!"

*          *          *

Diana placed her hand over Eric's closed fist.  "Paper covers rock, Cavalier," she laughed.  "Your turn again!"

"You know, I'm convinced that you're making this up as we go!" Eric returned as he tossed another log on the fire.

Diana laughed again.  "You weren't tired, and I wasn't tired, and you were the one who wanted to play," she reminded him.  "So c'mon!  Most _embarrassing_ moment this time!"

"Oh, well, that's easy!" Eric announced placing his hands behind his head and leaning back against a tree.  "That whole bogbeast fiasco!"

Diana smiled.  "That was your most embarrassing moment?"

"You mean it wouldn't have been yours?" he retorted.  "Tell you what: You spend a day as a 5 foot 8 frog and _then we'll see how you feel about it!"_

"No, thanks," Diana conceded.  She caught herself staring at Eric's profile for a moment before quickly turning away, her smile never fading from her face.  "Can I ask you a serious question?" she said after a few seconds.

"Shoot," Eric responded.

"I know Sheila told you that Cale left me . . . but did she tell you why?"

Eric sat quietly for what felt like a very long time.  He wasn't sure how he should answer that.  If he lied and said that Sheila hadn't said anything, Diana might feel painfully obligated to rehash the difficult details of her story.  If he told her the truth, he would feel as though he had invaded her privacy.  She hadn't, after all, ever told him herself.  In the end, he decided to play it safe, by answering a question with a question.  "Why do you ask?"

"Last night, you said that I was taking this whole thing -- the kids disappearing, I mean -- you said I was taking it really well," Diana replied.  She hugged her knees into her chest.  "I'm not, you know.  Not really."

Eric wasn't sure what to do or say.  He knew that his friend needed him to say something, but after so much distance had been put between them, he wasn't sure if he had the right anymore.  He sat quietly, waiting for her to continue.

"I can't have children, Eric," Diana admitted, "And whether you already knew that or not, I needed to tell you.  I can't keep my mind off Toby and what might be happening to him.  I love that kid," she mused, looking up to the sky.  "So much!  He's the closest thing I'll ever have to a child of my own and I think I would die if anything . . . ."  The Acrobat squeezed her eyes shut and pillowed her forehead on her knees.

"He'll be all right.  He and John both will.  You were the one who told me that."  Eric placed an awkward arm around her.  "Are you sure, though, Diana?" he asked, "Are you really sure?  About not being able to have kids?"

She lifted her face and wiped at the tears that were forming in her eyes.  "The doctors are sure," she said, "Even though they can't explain why."

"Since you brought it up," Eric ventured, "I've been wanting to say something about that guy that you married.  Don't take this the wrong way, Diana.  I'm saying this as _your friend, __not Cale's.  I know I didn't get to know him too well, but he seems like a really superficial guy.  And I think you deserve a hell of a lot better than someone who's going to leave you because of something that's not your fault."_

"Part of it probably was, though, Eric," Diana replied.  "There were things I never told him.  Things I probably should have, but never thought I could.  That alone should have said something about our relationship.  Especially when I look at Presto and Maggie and how he was able to tell her anything -- even about the Realm . . . .   

"Anyway, the doctors may not have had a valid reason for my situation, but I did . . . and I never told Cale.  I just didn't think he would understand."

"What reason?" Eric asked.

"Starfall," Diana answered.  "I'm pretty sure that the reason I can't have kids is because of what my body went through during Starfall."

"How can you be sure?"

"There's a lot of different reasons," she sighed, "But the bottom line is that I just know.  I can feel it.  Don't say anything, okay?  I didn't even tell Sheila that part of it."

Eric shook his head.  Part of the Cavalier was flattered that she had chosen him to confide in, but he was still heartbroken for his friend.  "I wish I knew what to say," he muttered.  "Do you think, now that we're back in the Realm . . . I mean, maybe there's a way to . . . ."

Diana cocked her head to the side.  "I appreciate the thought, Eric," she said, "But I think what's done is done.  Besides, if I was meant to find out what kind of guy Cale Vaughn really was, it's better that it happened before I invested even more of my life with him.  I would rather have a man who loves me for who I am -- not for what I can or can't give him."

Eric sat silently for a moment.  "I think you would have made a great parent," he said.  "For what it's worth."

Diana responded with a gentle smile.  "It's worth a lot," she replied.  "Thanks, Eric."

"So, what about you?" she asked, more cheerfully, after a few moments had gone by.  "I bet you're a great dad!"

The Cavalier paused thoughtfully.  "Sometimes I wonder," he said, shooting a sideways glance in Diana's direction.  "I mean, I love John more than anything, but I'm continually compiling this list of things that I have to make up for.  A missed hockey game here, a week or two away from home there, a couple of evenings in a row where I don't make it home for dinner . . . .  I'll tell you, Diana, it's hard.  But at least I can give him anything he wants."

Diana narrowed her eyes in a soft stare before sighing heavily.  "Eric, can I say something?" she asked.

"Sure."

"Now, I want you to take this in the manner in which it's intended," she prepared him.  "You have a lot of money; Enough so that you don't _have to spend all your time making more.  And what you just said, well, . . . it just doesn't make sense!"_

"Excuse me?"  Eric was floored.  Who did she think she was?

It a moment, the Cavalier found out exactly who Diana thought she was.  "We were friends, Eric.  You said yourself that you were sorry we drifted apart," she reminded him.  "If you want to rekindle our friendship, you know what that involves: I tell it like it is!  And I am telling you now that what you have, is something that I would lay down and die for!  You have a treasure in your life.  And I can guarantee that the only thing that boy wants, the only thing he _needs . . . is you!"_

Eric stared at Diana angrily for a moment before shaking his head at the familiarity of the words.  "You're starting to sound like Cassie," he said gruffly.  "She would have said something like that."

"Girlfriend?" the Acrobat prodded.

"N-no," Eric stammered a bit, "She's . . . .  You met her . . . at the park.  Cassie Masterson.  John's nanny."

"Oh, I remember.  So, that was her."  

"Yep," Eric mused, mostly to himself.  "She would have said that.  Or something stupid like, '_A wise man once said: Why give a tadpole the ocean if all it wants is the comfort of it's own pond_,'" he imitated Cassie in an overly-exaggerated elderly falsetto.

"Shall I tell you who _you_ sound like now?" Diana quipped.

"I think we can curb the insults, thank you very much," he mumbled.  

"Come on, Eric," Diana said amiably, "I think the old Dungeon Master would be happy to know that you're keeping his memory alive!"

"Memory?  More like a constant reminder," the Cavalier scoffed in reply.  "I thought I'd had enough riddles to last me the rest of my life.  It's just my luck that I would hire a nanny who has the same way with words as the Magical Mayor of Munchkin Land!"

Diana shifted her weight in her seated position so that she was now fully facing him, snapping Eric's full attention back in her direction.  "That's another thing I'd been meaning to ask you about," she said.  "John is what?  Eleven years old?  Almost twelve?  Why does he still have a nanny?"

Eric turned himself as well so that he was now face-to-face with Diana.  He had had something much more confrontational in mind to say, but swallowed hard and thought better of it.  "I needed her, Diana," he stated.  "After Denise died . . . I guess I just figured that John needed a woman around.  And it was amazing how Cassie was just . . . you know . . . suddenly _there_.  She was willing to leave her job for me and everything."

"Your son has a parent," Diana informed him, "And I don't think that a surrogate mother can replace the real father that John already has."

"How would you know, anyway," Eric grumbled bitterly.

"I know because I used to hear about it all the time from you sixteen years ago!" Diana said.  "Your biggest complaint was that your father was never around.  Think about it, Eric.  Do you really want your son to have the same ill feelings toward you?"

"It's not the same," Eric insisted.  "John knows that I love him."

"Look," Diana said gently, using her fingers to turn his face to hers, "You have something that I can only wish I had, and I would consider myself a failure as a friend if I didn't tell you to treasure every minute you have with that boy when we find him.  Time isn't cheap, Eric.  It's the one thing your money can't buy for you and your son.  Don't waste it."  She allowed her eyes to linger on his for a moment before speaking again.  "Remember, Eric, it's better to be loved for who you are . . . not for what you can give to people.  Your son is no exception."

Eric lightly gripped the hand that was touching his face and dropped his eyes slightly as he leaned in toward her.  He paused for a moment before touching his lips to hers with a kind of shy caution.  He wasn't sure why he did it.  Maybe it was just being back in the Realm.  Maybe it was his own desperation to have something to hold onto.  Or maybe he had just never given up on the idea of Diana in his life.  Whatever the reason, the scolding that she had just given him, Diana's old way of never allowing him to get away with anything, rekindled something in Eric, and he felt the need to act on it.  It seemed so familiar at first that it was a bit of a surprise to him when Diana finally pulled away.  "I'm sorry," Eric said, almost in a berate to himself.

The Acrobat only smiled at him.  _Don't be, her mind whispered, but the words couldn't seem to make their way to her lips, stalling a breath away from being uttered.  Confessing what was in her heart now meant dealing with it later and Diana wasn't sure if she could handle that.  Especially if that led to losing this man again -- whether it be to the dangerous, possibly deadly, force of evil that they were about to face here, or the grown-up responsibilities waiting for each of them back home.  It was just easier, for both of them, if she didn't allow herself to love Eric again._

But Diana continued to smile at him; a reassuring smile that conveyed that the Cavalier had done nothing wrong.  She stroked the pad of her thumb across his cheek once before finally letting her hand drop.

"Anyway, like I was saying," Eric continued, a bit flustered as he straightened up, "You sound just like Cassie."

"Well," Diana returned, "She's my kinda lady!  That's one very smart child care engineer that you hired!"

"I swear the way she fights with me . . . sometimes it's like she _wants me to fire her!" Eric mused.  "The woman certainly can speak her mind."_

"Maybe she knows that John doesn't need her anymore," Diana guessed.  "But, like I said, he's always going to need you.  Especially right now.  Maybe this is a first step, Eric.  Being in the Realm again is like being granted a second chance."

"You're right," Eric announced as he rose to his feet and pulled Diana up with him, "So what are we waiting for?"  It wasn't yet daybreak, but the Cavalier was now more determined than ever to find John.  "Let's go."

"You know, Eric," Diana stated as they began walking farther West, "If this doesn't prove to John that you'd do anything for him, I don't know what will.  After all, anybody's dad can show up for a hockey game.  But how many fathers engage in inter-dimensional travel for their sons?"

*          *          *

Ayesha scowled at the Orcish brute who had been sent to guard her.  She felt as though she had been in this prison cell for hours and yet the ugly beast hadn't budged an inch in his relentless duty.  On the table beside him lay the hilt of the Paladin's sword as well as Bobby's club.  

She tried to keep her mind from drifting to her uncle, as she hadn't seen him or heard anything about him since arriving here, and she was already frightened enough with worry.  If Bobby was here in this place, somewhere, Ayesha did know that the two of them were alone.  Toby and John had disappeared at the hands of that horrible skeletal creature, Varla could still be trapped in that cave for all the Paladin knew, maybe worse, and Bane must have been successful in capturing Uni once Bobby and Ayesha were detained.  It was like a bad dream.  Her friends were scattered and Ayesha had no idea how to help them.

She allowed herself to gaze at her Uncle Bobby's club.  _What would Mom or Dad do? she thought desperately.  She wrapped her arms around herself, gripping the edges of her cape, and wished that they were here.  _

"Well, they're not," she whispered aloud to herself, "And you might just be on your own, girl."  Ayesha was frantic about the others, but she knew that the only way to help them was by getting herself out, first.  She glared at the Orc who stood guard in the hallway.

"Excuse me," she said sweetly.  The Orc ignored her.  "You're certainly not one for conversation, are you?" she grumbled, annoyed that getting his attention would take more doing than she thought.

After several minutes, Ayesha heard a loud clattering as a metal plate was slid under her door.  She turned to face the noise.  Another Orc was snarling in the window of her cell.  At the prospect of being faced with a guard that was a bit more animated than the mannequin that had been watching her, Ayesha became somewhat demanding.  "Where's my Uncle Bobby?" she fumed.  

"Lady Kadysse deal with him," the beast growled.  "Deal with you later!"

The Paladin narrowed her eyes at the creature's back as he turned to lumber down the hall.  She glared at the gruel in the plate at her feet, then at the guard stationed outside.  _Not if I can help it! she thought hotly._

*          *          *

"God!  Where is it?  Where is it?  It _can't be gone!"  The dark-haired young woman fumbled through the few remaining belongings that were left on her dresser in the hopes of finding the item that she had lost.  "I thought that once most of my stuff was packed I'd be able to find it!"  She stopped and held up her hands in desperation before turning to the young man sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of her bedroom.  "You didn't hide it, did you?  So I'd miss my flight?"_

The blonde young man chuckled.  "Now, would I do a thing like that?"

The girl's hands rooted accusingly to her hips.  "You were the one who insisted that I take it off last week when you dragged me to that rock-climbing thing that you love so much!  I don't know why I listened to you!  I _never take it off!"  She continued to search her room, even dropping to her knees to check under the dresser.  _

"You don't remember where you put it?" 

"Maybe if I took it off on a regular basis, I'd have a special place for it!" she groaned.  "But I-I don't know now!  You were the one who told me that I'd find it before I had to leave!  And my flight takes off in about four hours!  How am I going to go a whole semester without it, Bobby?"

Bobby smiled a bit as he rocked back in his chair.  He turned his head toward the window.  "I'm gonna miss you, you know, Ter," he said.

Teri's aggravated face softened.  "Oh," she sighed as she moved across the floor to kneel in front of Bobby, resting her arms on his knees, "That's so sweet."  She took one of his hands.  "I really appreciate you being okay with this.  Studying abroad is a big deal for me.  And I know it'll be tough . . . being a whole semester and all, but . . . ."  She smiled as Bobby turned back to face her.  "I'll miss you, too."

"France," Bobby mused, "That's awfully far away."

"Well, unlike you," Teri stated as she got to her feet and resumed her search, "I've never spent an extended period of time away from home.  I just want the opportunity to see what else is out there."

Bobby scoffed.  "My reasons for being away from home were _hardly academic!" he reminded her.  "It's not like I earned 3 undergraduate credits in Survival 101!"_

"Magic Theory?" Teri offered with a grin.

"Orc Dodging might make an interesting gym class," Bobby added to the list with another snicker before staring down at his hands.  "By 'seeing what else is out there,' do you mean people, too?  Guys, I mean?"

Teri turned to him with a look of concern.  "Bobby," she sighed.

The young man shrugged.  "It's okay if you do," he ventured, almost shyly.  "We were best friends for a long time before we ever started dating for real, and I think we still had a good thing, even then.  So, if you're looking for something else . . . or if you think you might find it -- even if you're not looking . . . ."  He paused to sigh heavily and collect his thoughts.  "I guess what I'm saying is that I would still want to be your friend, Teri.  Your best friend.  And I'd want you to tell me."

"Bobby," Teri said softly as she walked back over to him, "No matter what happens, you will always be my best friend."  She stooped down in front of him again and took his closed hand in hers.  "There's no one else that I'd rather spend time with, or laugh with, or just _be with!  I think that's part of the reason that we've stayed so close for so long.  You've been a big part of me for most of my life and I never want that to change.  That's why I'm so upset that I can't find my necklace.  It's like my link to you.  Like having you in France with me . . . even if you can't really be there."_

Bobby lifted his gaze to smile at her.  "You're sure?" he asked.

"Absolutely," Teri assured him and, giving his hand a squeeze, added, "I'm going to go check downstairs."

"Hey, Teri," Bobby called, stopping her at the door.  She turned around and faced him.  He brought his eyes up from where they had been focused on his hands and looked at her with a light smile.  Holding up his clenched fist, he uncurled it, dropping a small pendant and allowing it to dangle from two fingers.  "You lose something?"

"Bobby!" Teri exclaimed and she ran back toward him as he rose from the chair.  "You sneak!  Did you have it the whole time?"

"No," Bobby answered cryptically as he relinquished his hold on the heart-shaped charm, "Not the whole time."  

Teri cupped it in her hands.  "What do you mean?  Where was it?"  She opened her palms to inspect the previously lost treasure . . . and her jaw dropped open.

"It spent a good portion of the week in the engraver's shop at the mall," Bobby responded softly.

Teri's breath caught in her throat as she gazed at the pendant in her hands.  It was almost the same as it had always been.  The same gold charm that Bobby had returned to her all those years ago.  The one item that she owned that she was convinced she couldn't live without.  But now, there was a small addition to the back side.  Where there had always been a smooth gold surface, it now read, in tiny scripted letters:

**_Robert Patrick O'Brien  
Loves  
Teresa Lynn Bradick_**

Teri was moved to tears.  She felt as though Bobby had given the necklace back to her all over again as he had the day after he returned from the Realm.  The former Barbarian was never one to express a great deal of emotion.  "Gushy stuff," he called it.  But, as he took the necklace from her fingers and loosened the clasp to fasten it back around her neck, Teri could swear that she heard a slight catch in his breathing as well.

"I do, you know," she heard him say as she glanced down at the treasure around her neck.  "I love you, Teri."  She looked back up at him with tears in her eyes as he leaned in to kiss her.

"If this is a ploy to get me to stay home," she said as their lips parted in a voice that was half-laugh and half-sob, "It's _totally working!"_

Bobby shook his head with a tender smile.  "I want you to go," he said.  "I want you to do your thing, and," he pointed to the heart around her neck, "I want you to come back to me -- like I came back to you."

Teri wrapped her arms around his neck.  It would be the last time for several months.  "For someone who doesn't like the 'gushy stuff,' Bobby the Barbarian, you certainly are a sweet talker!"  She then kissed him again, full on the mouth, for the better part of a minute before resting her head on his shoulder.  "I love you, too."

Bobby remembered it as being one of the happiest moments of his life.  He went to squeeze her tighter.  "Teri?" he asked.  He could no longer feel her against him.  "_Teri?"_

Bobby's eyes flew open, only to find himself standing alone in a barren landscape.  "Teri!  Where are you?  _Teri!"  He spun around at the sound of malevolent laughter echoing all around him.  "Who are you?" he demanded.  "Where's Teri?!?"_

The laughing continued; deeply ominous, yet unmistakably female.  "I told you, Barbarian," a voice suddenly mingled with the laughter, "You needn't worry about such petty things!  You are mine now!"

Bobby tried to run, but he felt as though a ghostly hand was holding him back.  His head throbbed as though someone was literally reaching into his brain.  He emitted a grunt of pain before yelling again.  "_TERI!"_

Bobby jerked awake only to find himself back in the circular chamber of the Citadel of War.  He was still chained, still in a great deal of pain, and feeling much weaker than he had been before.  In surveying the room, he noticed a figure standing a few feet away gazing into a circular pit in the floor.  Steam rose from the hole as though something was smoldering inside.  As the figure turned to face him, Bobby recognized Kadysse.

"The time has come, Barbarian," she said in a breathy voice.  "I have been waiting for you."

*          *          *

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**Author's Note:**  Yes, 'tis certainly true that I'm just a romantic at heart!  Here's hoping that I get to insert more of the 'gushy stuff' later . . . but only if the Young Ones make it that far!  Next chapter:  Just what does Kadysse want with Bobby?  Will Hank and the others reach him (and Ayesha) in time to prevent a tragedy?  

Hope you'll stay tuned!  As always, questions, comments, and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated!  If you're reading/enjoying my story, I'd sure love to hear from you!  Click the little button below or feel free to drop me an email!  *G*  

Till next time!


	8. Darkened Dawn

**Disclaimer:  **Since its development in 1983, the animated series _Dungeons and Dragons_ has belonged to the following at some point:  Marvel Productions, TSR, Inc., Wizards of the Coast,  Saban Entertainment, (according to rumor) Disney, and possibly even others.  I guess my point is, it does not (nor has it ever) belonged to me.  Oh, well!  This story, however, does!  I hope you enjoy it!

**Rating:  ****PG_-_13 for some language and violent elements**

**Author's Note_:  _**In categorizing this story, I've always envisioned it as an "action/adventure – drama."  I think it's safe to say that we've had enough of the latter to last a while!  Time to get the ball rolling on the "action" part!  So, without further ado . . .

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LEGACY  
Chapter 8 -- Darkened Dawn

The dawn's early light didn't seem to touch the ominous fortress, almost as though it feared entering the land on which the Citadel of War stood.  Hank, flanked by the two women with him, stared up at the towering structure.  "I guess this is the place," he mused.

Teri's fingers tightly clutched her necklace.  Even in her dreams, she had never imagined a place so dark and frightening.  Yet, she was strangely unafraid.  The idea that they were now, finally, closer to Bobby caused her to stiffen with determination.  "How do we get in?" she asked.

Sheila looked to her husband.  His eyes were focused intently on his weapon -- their only real weapon.  "Maybe I should--," she began to offer as her fingers instinctively went for her hood.  

Hank shook his head and firmly clasped one of her hands, bringing it back down and holding it between them.  Their small group needed to stay together.

The three inched closer to the edifice, using the surrounding crags of boulders as cover.  Upon nearing the citadel, however, and inspecting it more closely, Teri noticed something strange.  "No guards," she whispered.

Indeed, the Orcish sentinels that they expected to see were strangely absent from the scene.  Sheila offered a suggestion.  "This Kadysse seems overconfident," she said.  "According to what Uni told Varla, she causes wars between the people of the Realm by manipulating their minds.  Maybe she's so assured of her own powers that she doesn't think anyone would attack her."

"Hypnosis," Hank pondered, "She spreads come kind of Helen-of-Troy Syndrome.  Getting men to go to war for her."

"If her confidence keeps her feeling immune to invaders, maybe we'll have a clear shot getting in," Teri said hopefully.

"Maybe," Hank replied, "But I wouldn't count on it.  Just because the 'Bacon Brigade' isn't out here doesn't mean we won't run into trouble inside."  He stepped lightly in the direction of the main gates, followed closely by Sheila and Teri.  The Ranger's fingers were poised to draw an arrow if necessary as he slid across the outer wall of the fortress.  Holding his breath, he peeked around the opening and inspected the foyer chamber for guards.  Then, giving a cautious nod to the women behind him, he and the others crossed the threshold. 

*          *          *

The Orc on guard had only one word that mattered to him: duty.  Not because he was especially cause-oriented or driven, but because he cared too much for his own self-preservation.  Even his Orcish mind knew that Kadysse would reduce him to a smoldering cinder if he should fail.  It had been the same with Venger. 

So, it was with no small amount of concern for his own neck that the Orc's attention suddenly became alerted to what was going on in the cell a short distance down the hall.  A young girl was imprisoned there.  Hardly as troublesome as Dungeon Master's former Young Ones from long ago, but Lady Kadysse had still wanted her watched carefully -- until she was ready to deal with the girl.  It had been quite a long time since one of his fellow guards had brought a cold plate of gruel for her, and even longer before the Orc heard her slide the plate across the floor to actually eat.  He didn't care enough to look.  It was the same for most any prisoner.

It was the sounds that carried down from the cell afterwards that alerted the Orc to his own safety -- The clatter of the plate on the floor, several loud gasping coughs, followed by muffled wheezing.  The guard rose from his chair and plodded down the hall to peer into the cell.  The blonde youth was doubled over on her knees, one hand grasping the stone floor of the dungeon and the other clutching at her neck as she began retching noiselessly, gasping for air.  

The Orc fumbled with his keys.  If he was punished by Kadysse because this stupid girl didn't know how to feed herself without choking . . . .  

He lumbered to the center of the room where the girl had begun to turn a pale shade of blue as her lungs were denied more and more air.  The Orc, not knowing what else to do, pointed a commanding finger at her.  "You stop now!" he raged, as though the girl's situation was as easy to turn off as it was to douse a light.  This was his neck on the line, after all.

The girl, her mouth gaping and her hand at her throat, motioned to the plate of gruel on the floor in front of her.  "What wrong?" the Orc roared again.  "You stop now!"  She cast her watery eyes toward the guard and pointed desperately toward the plate again.  With a growl of disgust, the Orc leaned down to inspect the gruel.  

The girl quickly slid her hands under the plate, lifting it and sending the contents into the Orc's face.  The guard howled in shock as he shot to his feet and attempted to clear the gruel from his eyes.  The girl stumbled to her feet as well, skittering along behind him and shoving him with her foot headlong into the corner of the cell.  She scooped up the keys and scrambled toward the door; sliding through, pulling it closed, and locking it from the outside.

Ayesha panted, finally catching her breath and deeply inhaling the air that she had been denying herself, as the Orc found his bearings and clambered to the door.  He snarled at her through the window of the cell, sloppy gruel dripping from his face.  The Paladin turned and raced the few feet down the hall to where the two weapons lay.  She picked them up, fastened her sword hilt to her belt, and gripped Bobby's large club with both arms.

Upon running back in the other direction, toward the dungeon door, Ayesha paused in front of the cell that now held her former captor.  She smirked at him.  "Sucker!" she quipped as she tossed the keys into a grating in the floor and ran off to find her Uncle Bobby.

*          *          *

Bobby eyed Kadysse belligerently as she turned from the smoldering hole in the floor to face him.  Her lips parted in a sultry smile.  "I've had just about enough of this!" he growled.  "Where the hell am I?  And what have you done with my niece?"

Kadysse's smile widened.  "That is what I do like about you, Barbarian," she said as she walked the length of the room to stand directly in front of him, "So brave, so strong.  Your loyalties are to be commended . . . however misdirected they may be."

Bobby formed a confused sneer as the dark woman's eyes pierced into his.  Under normal circumstances, he would have a lot more to say -- be much more demanding, more hostile.  But for some reason, for as evil as he knew she was, the Barbarian felt a hypnotic calm when he looked at her.  With a thought of Ayesha, he managed to steel himself and try to summon a commanding voice.  "What are you talking about?"  

Much to Bobby's dismay, the commanding voice that he had attempted to summon came out as more of a whisper . . . .  He even inhaled his last word as Kadysse stroked a finger under his chin.  What the hell was wrong with him?  His head throbbed as he tried to focus.

"I am going to give you a rare opportunity, Barbarian," she said to him as she lowered her eyes and playfully toyed with the studs on his leather chest straps.  With her eyes cast away from his, Bobby was able to regain more clarity.  He glanced around the room in the hopes of finding something, anything, to get him out of this so he could find Ayesha.  

Nothing.  There was nothing here but circular stone walls and the steaming pit in the floor -- like the one Venger used to have in his old fortress.

As he turned his head forward once again, it came into direct alignment with Kadysse's feline yellow eyes.  Bobby swallowed hard and she smiled.  "I am going to give you the chance to join forces with me," she hissed at him beguilingly.  "To fight for me . . . to vanquish and destroy this accursed Realm and its bottom-dwelling inhabitants."

Bobby still had the mental faculties to scoff at her presumptuous offer, and might have even been amused if his head wasn't swimming in so much pain.  As it was, he raised a cocky eyebrow to her and said, "Just what makes you think that I would _want to do a thing like that?"_

Kadysse took a step back away from him.  "I have my own ways of convincing," she stated as she placed her hands on her hips.  "But think for a moment, Barbarian.  What do you care of this world?"  Her smile widened and she gave him a nod.  "I know all about you.  Did you think we would not know?  The Master that I serve knows all, sees all, and, when it suits Him, destroys all.  This place stole your childhood from you.  Can you honestly admit to me that you would feel sadness at its annihilation?"

Bobby managed to tear his eyes away from her and jerked at his chains again.  "I hate to burst your bubble, lady, but Venger sent us to stop you!"

Kadysse's lips curled over her teeth and a rumbling noise rose up from her throat.  It started out low, then grew to fill the entire chamber with malevolent laughter and echoed wickedly in Bobby's ears.  "_Venger?" she cackled tauntingly, her voice wracked with amusement.  Without warning, she thrust her hand forward and caught the Barbarian by the throat, a look of fury suddenly erupting behind her eyes.  "The once mighty Venger, the new so-called Dungeon Master of the Realm, is a weak fool!" she snarled.  "And he thinks far too highly of himself!"  _

Bobby could do nothing but wince in pain as the woman's nails dug like claws into the sides of his throat.  But that wasn't the worst of it.  It felt as though another hand was reaching into his brain, trying to tear his own thoughts out.  He gritted his teeth and managed to open one eye to glare at Kadysse.  Her exotic beauty was still there, heightened, if possible, by her growing wrath.  

"Venger must truly think himself a paragon of power if he believes that the -- _children -- who defeated __him can vanquish us as well!  We shall rip his beloved Realm out from under him!" she growled, lessening her hold on Bobby's neck.  The Barbarian gasped for air as the Dark Mistress's hand slid to the side of his face.  His throat was free, but the pain in his head was still there. He shuddered as she drew nearer to him._

"You are no match for us, boy," she said, her voice suddenly soft again, "But you do have the chance to taste the glory that will soon come to this accursed Realm."  She raised her eyebrow at Bobby's obvious pain.  "It hurts less when you surrender to the inevitable, Barbarian.  No man has ever been able to resist me.  They have fought wars for me.  Died for me.  Vanquished their loved ones for me.  Much of the Realm has already been destroyed . . . for me.  Do not try to tell me that you would not want to be a part of that."  When he could only stare hatefully at her, she added, "You will change your mind about me, Barbarian.  I promise you."

Bobby made a weak noise as he stared into Kadysse's eyes.  Her face was very near to his own now.  A lock of her scarlet hair brushed his cheek and his body shivered.  Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew what she was doing.  She was breaking him down, making him weaker so he couldn't resist her no matter how much he wanted to.  Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he had to stop her.  The problem was that every other part of his brain was fighting that logic; the parts of his mind that Kadysse already seemed to have a literal hold on with her ghostly hand.  This must have been what happened to the inhabitants of the Realm -- forced to fight each other after being corrupted and seduced by her siren song.  Somewhere in the back of his mind, the Barbarian knew he had to resist this.  But for how long?

Kadysse seemed to be able to sense his resolve and smiled wickedly.  This Young One's willpower was far stronger than she had originally thought.  He would be a most triumphant conquest, indeed.  She caressed the side of the Barbarian's face briefly before pulling him into a passionate kiss.

Blackness engulfed Bobby's mind like an icy shroud and he could feel conscious thoughts leaving him.  His body flooded with cold, almost as though his blood was a rush of liquid ice that flowed from the point where Kadysse's lips were pressed to his.  He was quickly losing the will to focus, to think, to resist.  Brief flashes of memory came and went like scenes from a long forgotten movie.  People, places, things that he had seen and done were all steadily melding together, blurring the boundaries between truth and fiction.  Bobby saw faces of people he knew fading into darkness.  _Hank!  Sheila!  Ayesha!  They were leaving him . . . and would soon be gone.  Kadysse's face was boring its way into the front of his mind.  Bobby hated it, but any power to stop it seemed to be leaving him like rushing water through a wide drain._

But somewhere . . . in the back of his mind . . . one thing remained.  Something that the Barbarian held onto with ties tighter than memory, tighter than anything.  Something that he promised himself that he would never let go of again.  Something that he loved, more than his own life . . . .

_. . . Teri . . ._

Kadysse released Bobby from her embrace and focused her golden eyes on him.  The Barbarian's seemed glassed over and far away.  She curled a corner of her mouth triumphantly.  "Tell me, Barbarian," she whispered alluringly, "What do you think of me now?"

"I . . . ," he began hazily, to which Kadysse replied with a cold and victorious sneer. Bobby brought his eyes up to meet hers, a steely glint suddenly sparking from them.  "I think you're nuts, lady!" he growled darkly.  "Completely certifiable!  Now, where the hell's my niece?"

Unmitigated fury flashed across Kadysse's face.  She raised her hand toward Bobby, which began to glow with the same white hot energy that she had first released upon him.  "You _dare!" she hissed.  "No one denies me!"  As the light intensified, Bobby could feel the violent pain filling his head once more, like she was again trying to reach right inside his brain._

Bobby tried unsuccessfully to stifle an agonized grunt of pain behind his teeth.  He turned his watery eyes toward the witch in front of him.  "_You think -- I wouldn't -- rather -- die?" he spat between pants of agony._

Kadysse's anger mixed with hostile amusement as she began to laugh.  "It seems, young Barbarian, that you are not as weak-hearted as I thought," she snarled back at him as he continued to writhe under the pain of her onslaught.  "However, your powers of perception leave much to be desired."  She brought her face very near to his again and intensified her spell.  "You see," she whispered, "You _will die.  Of __that there was never any doubt.  It was the manner of death that was in question.  Either __for me --"  _

She sent a shocking jolt that caused Bobby to almost scream in pain.  

"-- in glory.  Or _against me --"_

Another jolt and another growl of pain.

"--in anguish!"

Bobby's body was rigid under the strength of her spell, his teeth tightly clenched.  It was unlike anything he had ever felt before.  He managed to open his eyes and stare the vile witch down with insane rancor.  He could feel his body and mind weakening with each passing second -- seconds that passed like years.  He cursed himself for not being able to save--

"_Get **away from him, you witch!"**_

Bobby turned weakly toward the sound of the voice, his face paling.  "_Ayesha," he muttered through parched lips.  _

The Paladin was standing in the doorway far to Bobby's right, her sword blazing, gripped in both hands.  She glowered coldly at the evil siren in the center of the room.  

Fear cut into the Barbarian's joy of seeing his niece miraculously free.  She shouldn't be here!  She _couldn't be here!  She had to save herself!  "Ayesha!" he called out weakly through the mindless torment, his voice so hoarse that he barely recognized it.  "Run!  __GO!"_

Ayesha ignored his pleas and rooted herself to where she stood, never taking her eyes off Kadysse.  While the Paladin was not as brash nor as reckless as her Barbarian uncle, she had, whether she had formerly known it or not, every ounce of his courage.  She held her blade aloft and pointed it warningly toward the Dark Mistress.  "I said," she hissed, "_Get - __away - __from - __him!"_

"_Ayesha!" Bobby cried again, summoning more strength into his voice, "__Get out of here!"_

Kadysse glared at the insolent young intruder.  How dare she?  The woman shifted her gaze between the Paladin and the Barbarian, forming a wicked smile as she slid her eyes away from the latter.  "Very well, my dear," she sneered at Ayesha in a voice like poisoned silk, "With pleasure!"

The Dark Mistress' magic, which had been ravaging Bobby's mind, suddenly felt as though it was being removed.  Then, with an evil snarl, Kadysse ripped her spell free of the Barbarian's brain, like a barbed arrow being torn from an entrance wound.  Bobby screamed in agony before his nerveless legs gave out and he slumped in his chains, unmoving.

"_NO!"  _

Ayesha felt terror erupt inside of her as she screamed, her heart freezing over.  Her uncle looked dead, but there was no way to get to him right now to find out, as Kadysse was blocking her path.  She held her sword with trembling hands and forced herself to face the evil creature in front of her -- alone.  The Paladin managed to take a shaky step forward.

"Don't be a fool, girl," Kadysse growled at her as Ayesha raised her sword.  "You needn't waste your life playing the Paladin in service of a weak Dungeon Master.  I have destroyed most of your kind without so much as a whisper in their ear."

Ayesha glared angrily at the witch.  "Yeah, well, I'm a woman," she said in a shaky voice that tried to summon bravery, "And I don't care too much about what you have to whisper about!"

Kadysse chuckled maliciously.  "Woman?" she mused.  "You are a mere child, girl.  And a foolish one at that!"  At which point, she released a barrage of violent energy toward the young Paladin.  

Ayesha's blade almost seemed to take over, making its movements hers, as it parried the bolts that came at her.  She yelped as she ducked out of the path of another and sent her own charge back in Kadysse's direction.  The Mistress of War blocked it effortlessly with a shield of energy emitted from her palm.  She sneered at the Young One.

"You are brave, girl.  I shall grant you that," the evil woman stated.  "Pity.  Death often comes more painfully to the brave," she added with a wicked grin.  "Just ask the young Barbarian when you see him . . . in oblivion!"

Kadysse's words ripped through Ayesha's heart like a searing flame.  _Oh, God, please, no!  her brain screamed as she froze in her battle-ready stance, tears stinging her eyes.  The Paladin's anger steeled her for the attacks that she knew were coming . . . .  _

She heard a sound fill the air, much like the discharge from her own weapon.  It was followed by a shriek of protest from Kadysse as her arms suddenly became bound at her sides by a circle of yellow fiery light, cutting off the magic that she had been formulating.  For a moment, Ayesha thought that her sword had done it, taking over her movements as it had done before.  Then she heard the sound again, a surging hum of electric energy, and caught sight of two golden darts, flying through the air and shattering the chains that bound her uncle.

He hunched forward, but didn't fall, and for a moment Ayesha was seized by an intense relief that he was actually all right.  But the Barbarian seemed to be eased to the ground by unseen hands, then lay there motionless.

Ayesha's eyes traveled the perimeter of the room, to the source of the golden energy, which seemed to have come from straight ahead.  Even though she had managed to keep a tight grip on her weapon throughout the confrontation thus far, it nearly clattered out of her trembling fingers at the sight that met her eyes in the doorway behind the still-shrieking Kadysse.

A figure stood there; a man dressed in green studded leather, gripping a golden bow and leveling a sizzling arrow of pure flame at the Mistress of War.  His blue eyes burned with a harsh fire as he stared down the shaft of his weapon to the back of his struggling enemy, before raising them to face the thunderstruck Paladin.

". . . _Daddy? . . . ,"  Ayesha breathed, barely above a whisper, before screaming, "__DADDY!"_

The Ranger pushed his relief aside as Kadysse began to break free of his bondage.  He shouted a command at his daughter, "Ayesha!  The floor by the pit!  On my mark!"

She nodded in understanding and turned her sword toward the floor at Kadysse's feet.  Both Ranger and Paladin fired at the same time, blowing the ground out from beneath the Dark Mistress and sending her, screaming, into the smoldering crevice behind her.  A trailing cry followed her down and was cut off abruptly as an explosion of smoke erupted from the hole, briefly taking the form of Kadysse -- a fanged, distorted version of the Dark Mistress.  

"_You shall pay for this!" the apparition howled at them before dissipating and vanishing into the ceiling of the Citadel of War._

In what seemed like an instant, Hank was at his daughter's side, clutching her tightly in his arms.  He pulled away and touched her everywhere -- her face, her arms, her head, her face again -- looking for any sign of injury.  "Oh, thank God!" he breathed as he pulled her to him again in a grateful embrace.  

The Paladin finally allowed herself to cry.  She dug her nails deep into the leather of Hank's tunic and wept, almost as a delayed reaction to all that she had seen and been through.  For a brief moment she clung there, sobbing, before abruptly pulling a tear-streaked face away from her father.  "Uncle Bobby!" she said desperately.

The two raced over to where the Barbarian lay.  A blurry haze appeared beside him as Sheila pushed her cloak away from both she and Teri.  "Mom!" Ayesha cried and fell into Sheila's arms.  The Thief held her daughter tightly and all three women turned their attention to where Hank had fallen in beside Bobby.  

"My God," Teri whispered, "What has she done to him?"

"Is he okay, Daddy?" Ayesha asked, her voice weepy as she clung to her mother.

The Ranger put his ear to Bobby's chest and, without a word, turned a ghostly pale.  Sheila caught her breath and held Ayesha tighter, waiting for Hank to meet her eyes; to give her something -- anything.

_Oh, God, Hank whispered inwardly.  __God, Bobby, don't do this to us, pal!_

Teri leaned in close to Hank and muttered the Ranger's name.  He tried not to look at her, but slowly did anyway, with eyes that were like ice.  A wave of despair came crashing over the Dreamer and her mind was a torrent of fear and panic.  She tried not to let any enter her face as she turned to Sheila, who was holding Ayesha's head close to her shoulder.

Gripped by a sudden and fierce determination, Teri eased closer to the fallen Barbarian and whispered the young man's name.  "Teri," Hank said pleadingly, gently catching her arm.  The girl reflexively shot a stricken glare in the Ranger's direction.  He sounded almost defeated.  How could he?  Her eyes ignited briefly before she turned them softly back to Bobby, and said his name again.

"Teri," Hank repeated.  His face was still pallid and seemed to get grayer by the second as he attempted to formulate the words that the Dreamer needed to hear.  He couldn't bring himself to do it.  He didn't want Sheila to hear, either.  And Ayesha.  After everything that had happened -- everything that she must have already been through.  He slowly raised his eyes to his wife, who was trembling.  "He's--"

"I didn't see it," Teri interrupted as she reached out to touch Bobby's colorless face.  She looked back up at Hank with firm resolve.  "I _would have seen this!" she insisted.  "I know it.  I would have felt it."  As she said the words, Teri knew them to be true.  Even without her true dreams of the future, she always seemed to be able to tell when something was happening with Bobby.  Like when she warned him not to go to the party where he ended up tearing the cartilage in his knee.  She didn't have to 'see' where Bobby was concerned.  She could feel.  And today, she hadn't felt a rift where Bobby used to be . . . at least not yet.  He hadn't left her -- __couldn't have left her.  She turned back to the still Barbarian and clutched her locket tightly.  "Bobby?  Can you hear me?"_

Nothing.  

Teri squeezed back tears and tried again.  "Bobby, please."  She practically tried to force warmth through her fingertips to permeate the young man's chilled flesh.  "Come on, Bobby."  Outside, her voice radiated determination -- stubborn denial, perhaps -- but what sounded like determination, nonetheless.  Inside, however, the girl's heart was screaming.  It wasn't fair.  Not him.  

For days, Teri had been battling the crippling fear of arriving too late, which, as she had told Sheila the night before, had happened several times already.  But not this.  It didn't seem possible.  _Please, God!  After all they had been through . . . all the traveling, all the Dreams, all the sequestered fear . . . .  To have found him at last -- too late.  _

_No.  NO!  Bobby, you can't be dead!  Please!_

Teri finally spoke again, her voice steady and even -- almost commanding.  "Robert Patrick O'Brien, I want you to listen to me," she stated.  "You're not finished yet, do you hear me?  You have people here who need you.  _I need you!"  _

She took a conscious breath, as though she would have forgotten otherwise, and drew closer to him.  "You made me a promise, Bobby the Barbarian.  You said that this place wouldn't take you away from me again.  Not now.  Not ever.  Remember?  I expect you to keep that promise -- just like you did before."  Teri was now oblivious to anyone else in the room as she tried to coax, who she knew to be, the only love of her life back from the precipice of mortality.  She knew that there were three others with her, one of which being Bobby's sister who was trying desperately to bury her own anguish for the sake of her daughter.  But right now, Teri's only focus was Bobby.

"We've spent our entire lives finding each other again," she said, a gentle catch to her voice.  "This is where we first met.  And you came back to me from the Realm years ago, just like I saw in my dream -- just like I knew you would.  Then I came back to you after my semester away.  Just like I promised.  Now it's your turn, Bobby . . . it's your turn . . . it's your turn . . . ."  Teri hadn't realized how close she drew to him with every word, but, as she unconsciously repeated her last statement, she found herself nearly on top of his recumbent form, practically covering him with the blanket of her own body, trying to lend warmth to his chilled skin as her fingers gripped her heart-shaped pendant tighter.

"_Please, Bobby," she finally broke down, her voice scarcely a whisper, "__Please don't leave me . . . .  I love you."_

Sheila finally lost her grip on the heart-wrenching sob that she had been trying to hold in.  She felt Hank's arms wrap around her as she stifled another. _Lord, this couldn't be happening!  Not to her little brother.  She squeezed Ayesha tighter and opened her eyes, blurry with tears.  Light danced before her vision, enhanced and magnified by the droplets lingering about her lashes.  As she blinked the tears out, she saw the light's source; not from torches or candles or the smoking pit in the center of the room, but from beneath the Dreamer's fingers.  "Teri!" she gasped hoarsely._

Teri hadn't heard her.  She had buried her face in Bobby's shoulder, pressing her cheek to his, as the locket in her grip continued to glow with an ethereal light.  The Dreamer hardly noticed the warmth that the glowing pendant added to her already hot, clenched hand, but as her fist rested against Bobby's chest, the heat from it seemed to lend itself to his cold body.  Sheila held her breath as some of the color returned to the Barbarian's waxen face.  _What was happening?_

Teri heard a small, weak sigh in her ear and she froze.  Her breath and heart seemed to stop at the same time as she lifted her face only inches away from its place against Bobby's cheek -- listening.  She could feel a coolness against her face as the air hit the moist tears that had dampened it.  Her heart then felt as though it would pound right through her chest, at a thousand miles an hour, when she heard a much-cherished voice mutter, "I love you, too."

Teri's head darted up to hover over Bobby's face.  Her tears seemed to have instantly stopped as she stared wide-eyed at him, although they still left shimmering tracks down her face which shone in the light of her still-glowing necklace.  "Bobby?" she breathed.  The Barbarian didn't speak again, but answered nonetheless as he weakly opened his eyes and gave a wan half smile.

Teri's tears started again, joyfully this time, as she gave an euphoric cry and hurled herself at him, smothering his face with kisses.

"Take it easy, Teri," Bobby groaned.  "You know how I feel about the gushy stuff."  In spite of his words, the Barbarian raised a weary arm and pressed the Dreamer to his chest with as much strength as he could force into it.  By that point, Hank and the others were hovering over Bobby as well, grateful and relieved tears shining in their own eyes.  

Sheila breathed a heavy sigh and hugged Ayesha, who was now overwhelmed with thankful sobs.  The Thief only let out half of her breath before remembering something -- something that Venger had told them when they first arrived; his reason for not giving Teri a weapon: "_You carry your greatest asset with you, Dreamer," Venger's words echoed in her mind.  "__Keep your heart open.  It will provide aid when you need it the most."  Sheila slowly realized that, while Teri's dreams were indeed a great advantage, they were not her greatest asset.  That honor belonged to her heart -- and the love stored there for Bobby.  It had its own magic, its own power, stronger than any weapon she could have been given.  Sheila released the rest of her breath in a silent prayer of thanks._

Teri finally backed off, and Bobby looked at all of them as he tried to sit up.  Hank and Sheila attempted to help, regardless of the Barbarian's proud protests and declarations that he was all right.  "What are you doing here?" he said.

"What do you think?" Sheila retorted as she wiped her eyes.  

"You sent me to get them, remember?" Teri added.

Bobby tilted his head to his sister with a gentle, loving smile.  "I know why _you're here, Sis," he assured her.  "What are __you doing here?"  His question was aimed at Teri, but his eyes were cast accusingly in Hank's direction._

"Excuse me!" Teri replied.  "Don't go blaming Hank.  He tried twice to keep me from coming.  But I hope you didn't even _think that I was about to leave you here without me -- __again!"  She paused for a moment before turning a cold shoulder to Bobby.  "Barbarian!" she muttered.  _

Bobby's hand melted her frigidity as it lightly touched her shoulder.  The teary-eyed Dreamer turned and buried herself into his chest -- the sound of his beating heart pulsing like music in her ear.

Ayesha finally gravitated to Bobby's side.  "Uncle Bobby," she said as he looked down at her and gathered her under his other arm.  

"Hey, Honey," he murmured, placing a kiss atop her head.  He wasn't sure if he was furious with her for not getting out when he told her to, or if he couldn't be prouder of her for staying.  At the moment, he didn't care.  All he knew was that she was safe.

_Safe?  Oh, God!  Bobby suddenly stiffened as he remembered where they were; a movement that prompted both Ayesha and Teri to sit up straight.  He attempted to rise to his feet.  "Take it easy, Bobby," Hank warned as he reached out to support the Barbarian._

"What happened?" Bobby demanded in a labored grunt as he gripped the Ranger's arm to steady himself.  "Where is she?" he added with a hateful growl.

"Kadysse is gone," Hank informed him, "For now, at least.  Eric and Diana went to find Toby and John and Presto and Varla stayed behind at Tardos Keep to free Uni."

"Varla's okay?" Ayesha broke in.

Sheila nodded reassuringly and the Paladin visibly looked as though a weight had been lifted.  She had been frantic about her new friend ever since the cave-in.

Bobby scowled and clenched his jaw.  _Uni!  "We gotta go," he announced as he took a limping step toward the door through which Hank, Sheila and Teri had entered the chamber.  The Ranger maintained his hold on Bobby to keep him steady.  Teri appeared at his other side and offered her shoulder as support as well._

"You're in no condition to travel," Sheila fretted over him.

Bobby turned a sturdy eye to his sister.  "I'll be fine," he insisted.  The Paladin appeared beside him holding his club, which she had dropped in the doorway when she challenged Kadysse.  He gratefully accepted it and softly stroked Ayesha's hair with a smile.  "Besides, I'll feel better when they're safe," he added, never removing his eyes from the teenaged girl beside him.  "All of them."

Ayesha fell in beside her mother and the two women embraced again.  For a moment, Sheila was reluctant to let the girl go.  Ayesha drew away and wiped her eyes, scrutinizing her mother's attire, still disbelieving of her family's double life.  "I'm so glad to see you, Mom," the young Paladin whispered, hugging Sheila again.  As she pulled away the second time, she spoke with a teary laugh.  "You think after all this, I might finally be able to go out _without a chaperone?"_

"Sweetheart," Sheila said as she tenderly wiped the tears from Ayesha's cheeks, "I am so proud of you.  I want you to know that.  But," she added with a tearful smile of her own, "After all this, you'll be lucky if I _ever let you out of my sight again!"_

*          *          *

The sight was strange but familiar at the same time.  Venger's old fortress, which had previously been destroyed as the battle at Realm's Edge concluded all those years ago, now stood once again on the same barren, desolate land to which the Young Ones often found themselves journeying.  Whether it had been to find someone, to retrieve something, or to rescue one of their own, each time they appeared at the Dark Lord's door, it had been with the same ultimate goal: to find a way home.

Now, as Eric and Diana stared at the towering fortress, their goal was somewhat different.  They were here to save two children.  Children who, like them, hadn't been given a choice; Children who didn't deserve to loose their childhood; Children who meant more to them than life itself; And children for whom, although it went unspoken, they would willingly give up ever seeing their home again.  Both Eric and Diana knew that this was an extreme possibility, especially since they had no idea what to expect once they were inside.  They had indeed faced many challenges within those walls in the past.  But this was no longer Venger's game.  And a change in players could very well mean never seeing the light of another day.  They pushed these thoughts from their minds as they made their way closer to the castle's portcullis.

"Mordreth," Eric muttered with equal parts fear and rage.  "Which one of the three do you think he is?"

"Well," Diana replied, never removing her eyes from the castle, "_'Mort' means __'death.'  So my guess is he's the even-tempered, shy one."_

Eric scowled.  "Sorry," the Acrobat returned with a flimsy smile.  She eyed the Orcs posted at the main entrance.  "So, what's the plan?"

The Cavalier glared at the dark fortress.  Over the years, he had become quite adept at filling the executive role at his father's company.  The leadership that he often desired as a teenager (desired, ran from, but eventually shouldered expertly) was like second nature to the man he had become.  But now, standing in the shadow of this fortress of ultimate evil, Eric's mind automatically registered that he wished Hank were here.

"Ideas?"

Eric turned to her.  "There's two of us, and two of them," he noted.  "We could fight our way in."  He turned back to the Orcs as if he were sizing them up, then shrugged.  "But what's to stop us from just walking in?"

Diana glared at him as though the Cavalier had just claimed to want to build a summer home here.  "And what would the _real plan be?"_

Eric's trademark smirk flashed across his face.  "Watch and learn!" he said as he began to rise from his hiding place.  Diana grabbed his arm and yanked him back down.

"Are you nuts?!" she demanded.  "You can't just waltz up there!  They'll tear you to pieces!"

"Nah," Eric muttered dismissively with a swipe of his hand through the air, "Remember what Venger said?  It's been over two hundred years since we've been back here.  Those bozos won't remember us!"  He raised his head over the rocks behind which they were hiding to get a look at the green sentries again.  "Besides," he added, "I don't think all the time in the world would be enough to strengthen an Orc's mental muscle!"

"It's not their _mental muscle I'm worried about," Diana grumbled as she gripped her javelin. _

Eric grinned again, rising to his feet in full view of the Orcs.  "Trust me," he assured her, then strode toward the Orcs with Diana in tow.

*          *          *

Toby shot an angry glare at the Orc behind both he and John.  The two boys had been removed from their cell and were being led through the dank hallways of the fortress dungeon.  

"Where're you taking us, anyway?" John demanded, putting words to Toby's thoughts.

"Master Mordreth deal with you, humans," the Orc answered with a snort.

"What if I'm not too keen on meeting with your 'Master'?" John grumbled, which earned the young boy a shove from behind.

"Take it easy, John," Toby murmured as he reached out to grab the boy before he tripped.  "That's not gonna help us get out of this!"   The group of three had begun to ascend an unrailed stone staircase that spiraled up toward the dungeon door on the upper wall.

"Get offa me!" John growled as he yanked his arm free of Toby's grip.  "You and your bright ideas!  We're no closer to getting out now than we were hours ago!"

"Prisoners, be quiet!" the Orc roared as he shoved both of them from behind with his horizontally-held spear.  They stumbled on the stairs, but continued climbing.

"Yeah, well, at least I _tried to think of a way out!" Toby retorted.  "Is it my fault you didn't like it?"_

John scoffed hotly.  "It's your fault that we're here to begin with!" he hissed absently as he trudged up the stairs.

Toby stopped, yanking John's shoulder around so the boy would stop and face him.  "I _know you're not bringing all that up again!" he snarled.  "What a comeback, Johnny Boy!  Especially since you're just full of ideas yourself!  You're a regular think-tank, aren't you?"_

"Prisoners, keep moving!" the Orc roared again, but made no move to push them this time.

"Look who's talking!" the Squire sneered as Toby took a step past him and turned around to face the boy.  "If you're so smart, get us out of this, genius!"  John shot his hand out and shoved Toby in the arm.

"Quiet, you!" the Orc tried to interrupt again, but it was a half-hearted effort.  Something about the two youths bickering mindlessly had the brute very amused.  

"Don't touch me, Squire, I'm warning you!" Toby said in a cold and steady voice.

"What?  You mean like this?"  John returned mockingly as he repeatedly jabbed at the Fighter's shoulder, cautiously pulling back each time.  "What're you gonna do to me, huh?"

"I mean it, kid," Toby admonished him, visibly holding in his hostility, "You don't want to get me going!"

"Oh, like I'm _really gonna be more scared of you than this Mordreth guy we're going to see!" John jeered.  "C'mon then, tough guy, you're supposed to be a 'Fighter,' so fight!  What's the matter?  Chicken?"_

"You're askin' for a heap of trouble, little boy!  You've _been askin' for it since we met!"_

John paid him no mind.  "Bawk, bawk, bawk!"  The Squire stood on his toes to get in Toby's face, at least as well as he could while standing on the step below the Fighter.  "Nothing but a big _purple_ chicken in that stupid _purple_ getup of yours!"

Toby didn't respond, but stared hotly at the antagonizing boy and balled up a fist.

John smirked, a derisive swaggering grin that seemed to run in his family.  "So tell me," he mused with a sarcastic air of self-satisfaction, "You think the DM raided the 'Barney the Dinosaur Collection' to find that for you?"

"THAT'S IT!"  Toby made a lunge forward.

The Orc suddenly snapped away from the entertaining exhibition and back to his duty.  "Prisoners, be . . . !"

"_DUCK!"  _

John hit the stairs as Toby's arm swung over his head; the metal-laden cestus surrounding his fist impacting against the Orc's snout and sending their captor sailing back and tumbling down the steps, dropping his spear in the process.  Toby stepped over John's prone form to pick it up, then grabbed the Squire by the scruff of the shirt and hoisted him to his feet.  "Let's move!" he commanded.

The two boys tore the rest of the way up the stairs.  "Next time . . . ," John said between pants, ". . . _You be the bratty one! . . . . Deal?"_

"Only if you promise to be big enough to take that Orc down the next time!" Toby shot back, favoring his hand, which had been numbed by the blow.  "And don't you think you went a little far with that Barney the Dinosaur thing?"

"Can we talk about it later?!?" John wailed.  "We have to find our weapons and get outta here!"

"At least . . . ," Toby said, also out of breath as they ran, " . . . At least we have _something to defend ourselves with."  He weighed the spear in his hands as though testing it for throwing.  "Until we find our own--"  The Fighter skidded to a halt as he rounded the next corner, reaching a protective arm out to stop John as well.  The two boys froze as they found themselves face to face with what looked to be an entire troop of Orcs._

"I-I don't know if that spear's gonna do any good," John whimpered nervously.

Toby held the spear up to chest height and made eye contact with the first sneering Orc.  "Then there's only one thing to do," he growled.

"What's that?"

"Scatter!" Toby snapped as he shoved John down a perpendicular hallway.  The Fighter stood in front of the passage to block the boy's escape from the Orcs, then tried to get them to follow him instead as he bolted back in the direction from which he had originally come.

*          *          *

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**_Additional Author's Notes:  _**My apologies to Presto fans.  His absence from this chapter was a minor casualty of the editing and revising process.  The Magician will be back full-force in Part 9!  (After all, only one Force-of-Evil is down.  Two to go!)  Stay tuned!  *G*


	9. Dire Straits

**Disclaimer:  **Since its development in 1983, the animated series _Dungeons and Dragons_ has belonged to the following at some point:  Marvel Productions, TSR, Inc., Wizards of the Coast,  Saban Entertainment, (according to rumor) Disney, and possibly even others.  I guess my point is, it does not (nor has it ever) belonged to me.  Oh, well!  This story, however, does!  I hope you enjoy it!

**Rating:  ****PG_-_13 for some language and violent elements**

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LEGACY   
Chapter 9 -- Dire Straits 

Varla Myers had no idea what time it was.  Even if she knew how to tell time by the position of the sun, which she didn't, she wouldn't know the first thing about reading four suns!  She kept instinctively glancing at her wrist, as though the watch that used to be there would suddenly appear to help her mark the minutes.  Her jittery fingers found the edge of the delicate scarf that wrapped around her head and trailed down her back, and began to pick at the seam.  

"Easy, Princess," Presto soothed as they came within sight of Tardos Keep again.

"How will we know when it's high noon, though?" she responded anxiously.

"It's not," he eased.  "Not yet."

"I know but--"  Varla thought back to this morning.  It hadn't quite reached first light when she tried to contact Uni again . . . .

"Uni?  Uni, can you hear me?"

Silence.

"Uni?"

"_Yes, Mystic, I hear you.  But we must speak quickly.  Bane is watching me very closely."_

"Presto and I are coming, Uni.  Can you tell us how to reach you?"

"_I know that I am somewhere in the lower city of Tardos Keep.  I remember being taken through the old garden courtyard where the Dragonbane crop used to grow.  I am in a cell somewhere near there now, for that is where Bane shall be taking me today at high noon."_

"Why?  What happens at high noon?"

"_The city of Tardos is in such a location that the energy permeating from the Realm's four suns meet at an apex above the Keep at high noon.  The force generated from this energy enters the courtyard at a centralized location and feeds the surrounding gardens with its life power.  It is because of this, that Tardos was the only place in the Realm where Dragonbane was able to grow; it was the only location that received the suns' exact energy this way.  Anywhere else, and the courtyards here would have been as barren as the surrounding Dustlands."_

"So, even though this Dragonbane stuff isn't around anymore, the energy to grow it still enters Tardos at exactly noon?"

"_That is correct, Varla.  And the Dragonbane would grow here still, were it not for the Dark Lord Bane infecting the soil with his pestilence.  Precisely at noon is when the evil one plans to corrupt the life energy of the suns once again . . . and use it to transform me into his own dark steed.  He has already drained me far too much for me to resist his power."_

"Oh, no--"  Varla unintentionally broke her link with Uni as she realized how little time they had to reach her.  Only until noon . . . and it was already growing light . . . .

As she stood with Presto with Tardos once again in their sights, the girl grew more and more worried that they wouldn't make it in time.  

Presto tried hard to think of a plan to get them to the unicorn.  The getting in wasn't the problem; it was facing this new and unfamiliar force of evil once they got there.  _But first thing's first, Wizard, he thought.  First, they had to get through the doors.  And if memory served, bluffing their way past any Orc guards at the entrance shouldn't be too tough._

*          *          *

Diana rounded the next dark corner, not even glancing back as she ran.  '_Trust me,'__ he said!  '__Watch and learn,' __he said!  '__We'll just walk right in,'__ he said!  "Eric!" she called behind her to the Cavalier who was barely keeping up.  "The next time you want to bluff, at least try to think of something good!"_

"Hey!" the Cavalier panted from her heels, slowing down each time he risked a look back at their pursuers, "It _was a good idea!  It was working, you know!"_

"Weapons salesmen!?" the Acrobat returned.  "_That was your big idea!  Eric, you've spent too long as an executive!  Do salesmen really talk like that?"_

"How would I know?" Eric called back.  "How would the Orcs know, for that matter?  Besides, I was doing fine until they saw you with your javelin looking like you were gonna take their faces off!"

Diana gave an exasperated groan.  "What was I supposed to do?  Pose with it like Vanna White?"  She surveyed her surroundings as she ran, before muttering, "I've had it with this!"

Eric continued to steadily puff his way through the dim hall.  "We're inside, aren't we?" he returned.  "Once we ditch these guys, we'll be--  Diana?"  The Acrobat was no where in sight.  "Diana!  Where are--_yahhh!"_

Eric wailed as he felt himself suddenly tugged into a dark corner of the corridor; almost toppling into whomever had grabbed his arm.  "Shh!" Diana's voice hushed him from somewhere in the dark as the pursuing Orcs rushed past the opening of their hiding place.

"Now . . . ," she began whispering, after a moment's reprieve.  Eric suddenly became aware that Diana's voice came very close to his ear and that, in his attempt to squeeze further into the corner as the Orcs ran past, he must have ended up practically on top of her.  He backed off, a bit flustered.  ". . . You were saying?" she continued.

"Uh, yeah . . . once we ditch these guys--"

"Done," the Acrobat replied as though checking items off a list.  Eric could swear that he could almost feel the satisfied grin that must be on her face right now.

"--We'll be able to find out what happened to the kids."

"To the dungeon, then, sir?" Diana offered. She stepped forward to peek around the corner.  

At the sound of shuffling feet, Eric gripped Diana's elbows, pulling her back toward him as two Orcs ran past the entrance.  They were headed in the opposite direction as the ones who had been pursuing he and Diana.  He froze for a moment, his gauntleted fists wrapping firmly around the Acrobat's arms as he held her back against his chest.  (Perhaps even a bit more firmly against his chest than actually necessary.)  He didn't let go for many moments after the Orcs had gone.  And when he did it was almost reluctantly.__

"They're in a hurry," Diana remarked over her shoulder to Eric as she felt his grip slowly release her.

"And if they're after us, they're going the wrong way," Eric said.  He paused thoughtfully before adding, "You don't suppose they've got reinforcements following up the rear, do you?"

Diana kept her eyes glued to the hallway as she inched toward the mouth of their hiding place.  She tentatively peeked around the corner and directed her voice back at the Cavalier.  "Okay, coast is clear.  Stay behind me, Eric, and watch our backs."  The Acrobat eased out of the corner and moved silently along the hallway, drawing her staff as she walked.  Eric emerged behind her and tread, not quite as quietly in his armored boots, but kept a close eye on their rear for any more soldiers. 

It was not, however, an Orc soldier who spotted them. 

*          *          *

"Master Mordreth?" came a voice from the blackness that was as inky and unctuous as the shadows that made up the creature's body.

"What is it?"  The throaty hell-rumble from the Dark Lord of Destruction filled the upper chamber of the fortress.

"The Young Ones are loose in the castle."  Shadow Demon slid from the darkened umbra in the room and cautiously approached one of his current masters.

"I know," Mordreth replied with disinterest.  He remained turned to the window.

"But, Sire," the phantasm tried to clarify, his smoky head bent, "The Young Ones that I speak of are two of Dungeon Master's _former_ pupils . . . the ones who defeated Venger."

Mordreth turned to the dark apparition, his skeletal mien spreading into a demonic smile.  "Interesting," he sneered.  Two red lights shone from deep within the empty sockets of his eyes. 

*          *          *

Presto and Varla crouched by the stairs leading up to Tardos Keep.  They had managed to traverse the valley leading to the once-impenetrable city without incident.  Now, it was time for a plan.  A little magic might help.

Presto thought back to the time that Varla, the Illusionist, had disguised he and his friends as Orcs so that they could sneak into Venger's Forbidden Tower.  What he wouldn't give for one of those illusions right now.

"Will you tell me about her sometime?"

The Magician bent his head to look at his daughter.  "Who?"

"Varla," she answered.  "Your Varla.  Did you love her?  As much as you love Maggie?"

Presto smiled.  His daughter's ability to read thoughts was going to take some getting used to.  "I guess there's a lot that I can talk to you about now," he answered as he ticked a curved finger under her chin.  "Varla was very special.  I promise I'll tell you all about her someday."  He turned back to face the titanic doors of Tardos Keep.

"Bobby and Venger said she was an illusionist.  If she was here, we could conjure up some kind of disguise," the Mystic offered.

"Of course!" Presto exclaimed as he removed his hat.  "We are in the magic business, after all!"  Holding the hat before him, the Magician twiddled his fingers over its opening.  "_Hat of mine, it's been a while, but help us breach those gates in style!"_

A mound of cloth was spewed forth from the magic hat and crumpled on the ground at Presto's feet.  It was quickly followed by a purple quarterstaff.  "Hey! Not too shabby!" the Magician said as he rustled through the cloth to inspect it.  "Not too . . . .  Okay, so it's a little shabby."  

Presto grumbled as he held up the tattered and moth-eaten hooded cloak that his hat had produced.  If it had really been over two hundred years since they had left the Realm, this cloak looked as though it had been lying around for at least that long!  Varla, in contrast, was in awe of what her father had been able to do.  "Wow!" she breathed.

Presto dismissed what he would have thought of as failure at the sound of his daughter's approval.  He smiled, then noticed that he had obtained only one cloak.  He wrapped it around himself and tried to usher Varla inside as well.  She fit, but wouldn't remain concealed as they moved.  "I guess I could try for another," the Magician offered dubiously.  "Then again . . . ."  He swung the cloak around Varla's shoulders and lifted the hood to cover her face.

"What?"

"I could pose as your prisoner," Presto told her.  "We'll look less suspicious heading for the dungeons if one of us is a prisoner.  Just walk tall and make with the attitude -- like you know exactly what you're doing!"  He remembered how Hank had done just that when they dressed as Venger's troopers to free Sheila and Alfour from the Archmage's dungeon.

Varla gave him a cockeyed look from beneath the hood, which had slipped back a bit.  "Um, Dad?" she said as she looked up at him, "I don't think they're actually going to believe that you're _my prisoner!"_

Presto pursed his lips.  Although the Magician was never the tallest nor the strongest of any of his friends, in fact he still wasn't, he was certainly the better choice of the two to play the captor right now.  Varla was right, but, "I don't want you seen," he told his daughter.

"They already know I'm here," she said as she slid the cape back off her shoulders.  "Maybe, if they don't know you're in the Realm yet, you could surprise them!"

_Oh, sure!  Presto grinned wryly at his daughter's confidence before reluctantly accepting the cloak from her.  He checked the suns' positions in the sky before raising the hood.  "Give me your wand," he said.  "A prisoner wouldn't be carrying a weapon."_

The girl obeyed and he tucked it away inside the pouch at his waist.  He then picked up the staff, which began to glow and hum with a purple light at Presto's touch.  "Here's goes nothing!" he said as he shoved Varla, as gently and yet as convincingly as possible, up the steps and toward the door.

Upon reaching the heavy wooden entrance, Presto rapped on it with his quarterstaff and was greeted, in short order, by a menacing Orc.  Presto cleared his throat and summoned a deep, craggy voice.  "Prisoner for Lord Bane!" he hissed, nudging the girl from behind with the staff.

The Orc regarded both with a snort.  "Password," he grumbled.

_Oh, brother!  Presto's legs felt like jelly and his face blanched with consternation.  A password!  ". . . Ah, yes! . . . Of course! . . . Th-the password! . . . ," he fumbled, the raspiness that he was forcing into his voice starting to break as he struggled to remember the phrase that had gotten them into Venger's fortress all those years ago.  "The password . . . is . . . ."_

Presto suddenly felt a voice in his head . . . and an alien slogan.  ". . . Droolomuk Cwalfore!" he said confidently.

The Orc sneered briefly, then stepped aside so they could pass.

Presto heard the door shut behind them as the two rounded a corner.  "Thanks!" he breathed to Varla.

"No problem!" the girl whispered back.  "That was the easiest mind I've read since coming here!  It was like an open book!  And the words he was looking for were right there!"  

"Yeah, well, Orcs aren't known for their mental prowess, that's for sure!"  Presto's grin widened at the thought that his daughter had been able to not only read the Orc's thoughts, but also convey the message to him . . . all without the aid of her wand, which still remained tucked inside his pouch.  He made a mental note to mention it later.

Presto and Varla made their way down a long staircase that, if the Magician remembered correctly, led to the gardened courtyards below.  What they found there, however, looked more like an unkempt greenhouse of toxins; the once beautiful blooms and plant life now resembling a forest after a fire, while the mirrored pools were reduced to crevices of black repugnant sludge.

The Magician glanced around helplessly at the place that had once been so magnificent, strong, and unblemished in every way.  "C'mon," he said, "Let's find Uni."

Varla stopped and glanced up.  "Look!" she whispered, pointing toward the ceiling.  Sure enough, just as Uni had told her, there was an opening high above, through which the Mystic could see a sliver of sky.  The area below the opening was a wide circumference of decimated flora.  "Was that the Dragonbane?" Varla asked.

"Probably," Presto replied, "We never actually saw where it grew."  In fact, the Young Ones hadn't even known what it looked like until they unwittingly used it to destroy Venger's Demodragon.  

"Then this must be where Bane will be bringing Uni," Varla added.  "That means she must be nearby!"  The girl looked to the lofty ceiling high above once more.  She placed a hand above her eyes as though that would help her to see farther.  There were no suns showing through the opening just yet.  They had some time . . . but probably not much.

Presto guided Varla through the courtyard, still wrapped in the cloak in case anyone spotted them.  His grip on her shoulder tightened when she stopped suddenly.  "I . . . hear something," she murmured.

"Is it Uni?" Presto whispered back.

"I don't know," Varla answered, "But it's coming from . . . in there!"  The Mystic pointed toward an arched doorway leading into a darkened hall.  "Maybe that's where Bane is keeping her!"

The two moved carefully through the shadows, Varla stopping every few feet to try to contact the unicorn.  She wasn't having any luck.  _Maybe, she thought, __because Presto __still has my wand.  She was about to suggest that what she heard had been nothing and that they should try somewhere else, when a faint light caught her eye from beneath a door up ahead._

Presto eased the girl behind him and tentatively tried the handle.  It opened easily.  And inside, the Magician saw the source of the light.  

Several sinewy magic coils were radiating dimly through the room.  The restraints that they formed were tying down a brilliant single-horned animal.  Presto gasped, wide-eyed, at the beast.  He recognized the white body, the orange mane and tail, and the weakened bleating groan that rattled up from her throat as her eyes found the Magician.  It was Uni.  Not the Uni he remembered, but Uni nonetheless.

Varla impatiently scrambled around Presto to see the tethered unicorn for herself.  Uni's dazzling glow from the other day had faded a bit, replaced by a lackluster gray color that was visual proof of her weakened state.  The straps that held her low to the ground were like vines of pure poison, sinfully draining the regal creature of her power.  Uni began to thrash as she spotted Varla, emitting weak, goat-like noises that were so unlike the noble whinnies of her first appearance.

"Gaa -- Baa!"

"Uni, what is it?" Varla asked quietly as she stepped away from Presto.  "We're gonna get you out of here!"

Uni attempted to stand, but faltered under the tethers that were holding her down.

"Gaaaa -- Baaaa!"

Presto fell into step behind Varla.  "Uni!  It's me, Presto!  We've come to--"

"_GAAAA -- __BAAAA!"_

"Uni?" Varla said as she stopped, confused by the unicorn's urgency.  "I don't understand!"

Uni stopped struggling and met Varla's eyes; the unicorn's were dulled by pain but wide with warning.  _Go . . . BACK, Mystic!_

Varla's stomach twisted as the words flashed through her head.  She spun around to face Presto, but found herself looking past him . . . at the figure who had appeared in the doorway.

"Welcome, young Mystic!" Bane's serpent-like voice hissed at her.  With a wave of his hand, the torches along the walls sprang to life, lighting the darkened gloom of the chamber.  Presto and Varla found themselves standing before a large crevice in the floor; a shadowy pit that had been hidden previously by the darkness and that separated them from Uni.  Bane focused his glare on the disguised Presto.

"You have done well, my friend," he said to the cloaked Magician, who stood staring at the dragon-like creature that donned the former garments of Venger.  "I had thought we were rid of this one.  You shall be rewarded a handsome bounty for bringing her here."

At that, Bane struck out with his hand.  His clawed fingers curled open and out shot a ghastly magical, whip-like cord from the center of his palm, like those that bound Uni.  It sped like lightning toward Varla.  The sinew surrounded the girl, holding her fast, and she screamed upon feeling its intense power.

"_VARLA!" Presto cried reflexively as he leapt forward, abandoning his charade.  He wrapped his arms around his daughter from behind, and curled his fingers around the taught energy vine that encircled her body, attempting to break it.  Presto strained through gritted teeth as he could feel the sinew draining his strength as well.  He twisted at it, hoping that he could prevent the evil current from reaching Varla by absorbing it with his own hands.  Somewhere far away, he could hear Uni whinnying in protest._

Presto raised his watery eyes as a hand gripped the hood of the cloak he was wearing, whisking it away from his head.  "Well, what have we here?" Bane sneered amusedly.  "If it isn't the former Dungeon Master's pathetic Wizard!"  Presto grunted as, with every word, the dark creature seemed to send even more magic coursing through his body.  He stared at Bane, daggers of hatred forming behind the wire rims of his glasses.  

"Stop it!  No!  _Daddy!" _

Presto could hear Varla's fearful protests.  His only comfort through the onslaught of energy was the fact that if his daughter was able to speak, she must be doing better than he was.

"I am disappointed," Bane mused tauntingly, "You are not nearly as troublesome as I had imagined."  He sent another jarring jolt through the electric cord.  "In fact, your foolish sentiment has made this quite easy.  Pity."

Bane reached forward with the hand that was not controlling his magic and removed Presto's hat from his head.  "I suppose you will not be needing this," he said, almost wearily.  "I am sure that my Master will be most grateful for it.  Farewell then, . . . _Wizard!"_

Varla felt the magic that bound her suddenly release and recoil back toward Bane, who enveloped the tether back into his palm.  He raised his other hand and, swiping it through the air, sent a magical wind toward she and Presto.  The Mystic felt her body twist and slam against her father as the world upended and she was suddenly tumbling through empty space.  Rocky walls rushed past her eyes as the cold darkness of the pit engulfed them both.  Everything happened so fast that it barely registered in her mind.  She could hear Uni's panicked whinnies growing farther away as she saw the dirt floor of the dungeon pit rush up toward her, plunging her into darkness with a sickening jolt.

*          *          *

Toby Beckett could no longer hear the Orcs behind him.  This worried the youth because they had been following him so persistently through the dark hallways.  He hoped they hadn't gone back in search of John.

He stopped and cautiously eyed the corner up ahead.  Maybe they had gotten around him by another path and were waiting in ambush somewhere.  Toby suddenly wished he hadn't ditched the spear.  But running with it through that first narrow hallway had been so hindering that, even though it left him weaponless, he had promptly lost it.

Looking around, he saw that he was most definitely alone for the moment.  He was struck with a brief ray of hope.  Perhaps he really had lost them.  After all, the Orcs hadn't struck him as being the sharpest knives in the drawer.  Maybe--

Toby jumped at a noise and spun around.  There was nothing there, but the sound had been enough to snap him back to reality.  Mordreth's guards could be anywhere.  He began to cautiously pick his way along the dank wall until he came to a room with an open door.

Toby prudently glanced into the room, poking his head around the doorjamb inch by inch.  What he saw there made his stomach jump anxiously.  On a table near the far wall was his whip and John's medallion.  For a moment, the boy would have raced in and fell upon them, but stopped himself.  The two weapons where just lying there . . . unguarded . . . like bait.  There was no way--

Then something else caught Toby's eye.  On the far end of the room, opposite the table with the weapons and directly parallel to the Fighter, was a stone staircase leading to another door on the high wall.  Toby's heart jumped as a flash of beige and red scampered past the opening.  The thought of a possible trap waiting for him was momentarily abandoned as he instinctively cried out.

"_John!"_

*          *          *

Eric grabbed Diana's arm as he suddenly stopped and whipped around.

*          *          *

"Toby?!  Is that you?"

The Squire scrambled back to the doorway upon hearing his name.  Looking down, he saw Toby race into the room.  Simultaneously, he watched as an enormous Orc soldier emerged from the shadows and swiped at the Fighter with a roughly made, primitive club.  

Toby leapt back and cast his eyes to the door again.  "John!"

John emerged through the door and stood on the first platform of the stairs, deliberating as to what he could possibly do.  He started to come down.  "Stay there!" Toby shouted at him.  The boy froze.

Toby braced himself to face the Orc who came at him again with an uncivilized grunt.  As the club swung again through the air, the Fighter lunged forward, ducking below the blow and staggering himself on the floor before scrambling to this feet and making a beeline for the weapons.  He scooped them up and spun around the table as the Orc's next blow reduced it to splinters.  

While the Orc pried his club from the remains of the table, Toby rooted himself to the center of the room and cast his eyes toward the young Squire.  "Catch!" he shouted as he hurled the medallion upward.  The boy made a one-handed lunge for it, overcome with a feeling of partial relief as his fingers wrapped around the golden disk.  He looked to Toby again, then into the hallway behind him.  "Come on, Toby!  Let's go!"

Toby started to run for the stairs, but was halted by the nearing sound of the Orc behind him.  He was forced to stop and face the brute again.  "Go, John!  I'll catch up!"  

"But, Toby . . . !"

The Fighter uncurled his whip and glared at the approaching Orc.  He shot another quick look up to John.  "_Go!"  _

As the Squire reluctantly doubled back and disappeared into the hallway, Toby stood ready to face the guard.  His lips curled over his teeth in a confident sneer.  "Okay, round boy!  Let's dance!"

*          *          *

Eric released the Acrobat and ran, stopping only at a divergent set of hallways to decide which to take.  He could hear Diana shouting behind him.  "Eric!  Wait!"

The Cavalier glanced back quickly at her before choosing the path to the right and racing toward an ascending set of stairs.  Diana stopped at the fork, watching him leave.  "Eric!" she called out again fruitlessly.  She started to run after him when her ears suddenly perked up and she turned.  She stood listening for a moment before racing down the other path, toward the faint sound of battle.

*          *          *

The Fighter jumped away from the swinging club and shot out with his whip, missing the Orc but forcing him to struggle for balance.  The Orc spun around to regain his footing and grabbed his own whip that had been looped at his side, snapping it menacingly on the ground before taking a stance in front of Toby again.

Toby took a step back.  He would make a break for the stairs if he could, rather than waste all of his energy fighting this thing.  He looked up to the doorway above, remembering how his whip had grappled around that tree branch back at the canyon and hoisted him up the rock wall.  If he could find something to latch onto, he could save himself the time and effort of running up the steps and catch up with John a lot quicker.

But he looked for too long.

Toby heard a crack and whipped his head around in time to see the Orc's lash sailing toward him.  Instinctively, the Fighter struck out with his own weapon.  The two whips met in mid-air and became entwined together.  

The Orc snarled as he tugged his arm back.  

"Whoa!"  Toby felt himself jerked off his feet and dragged to the ground in front of the brute, his hands still tightly clutching his whip.  He emitted an aching groan as he felt the heavy foot of the Orc press upon his back to keep him down.  Toby could only take shallow breaths as the beast's crushing weight began squeezing the air from his lungs.  He struggled to look up as the Orc raised his club again.

"Hey!!"

The Orc seemed startled at the shout, but did not deviate from his task.  The club continued its ascent, even as Mordreth's guard directed his attention toward the doorway adjacent to both he and the downed Fighter.

The silhouette of a figure had appeared in the torch-lit hallway, striking a very determined stance and brandishing what looked to be a long staff.  The voice came again, full of rage.  "Come on, Porky!  Let's see you pick on someone your own size!"

The Orc snorted at the figure, whose slender frame ironically could not have even equaled half of his immense girth.  But the odds didn't seem to faze this individual, who gripped the staff until it began to glow with a jade green light.  

Toby stared up at this person, who stepped forward until the shroud of shadows from the hall ebbed away from her (_Her?!) to reveal an amazonian warrior.  The weapon that she carried glowed fiercely, her appearance of fury heightened by the light that the staff cast into the furrowed anger-lines in her face as she scowled at the Orc.  The Orc's heavy foot on Toby's back was no longer causing a breathing problem for the boy . . . as he had been holding it since spotting the woman -- a woman that he knew.  He had to blink back his wide-eyed doubt before looking at her again._

"What's the matter?" she growled at the guard, "You got Spam between the ears instead of a brain?  _Get - away - from - him!"_

Toby swallowed hard.  "_A-Aunt Di!?"_

*          *          *

John tore blindly through the hallways of Mordreth's fortress.  At several points he stopped and turned, feet quivering as though they wanted to head back in the other direction to help Toby.  He had felt that the Fighter should have joined him by now.  Panic made his heart race and he clutched his medallion without slipping it back around his neck.  

It was around the next turn that he saw it -- a brief flicker of daylight.  John skidded to a halt and walked cautiously toward it, not sure if it was real.  He stayed close to the wall and inched forward until he was certain that it was indeed the open portcullis up ahead.  The Squire felt as though his heart leapt from his chest and ran out into the open ahead of him.  He couldn't believe how eager he was to get back into that crazy world beyond the door.  After all that had gone on inside this castle, the prospect of wandering through the Realm again was a welcome change.

John froze as he eyed the open gate, blinking at it longingly.  He turned back to face the dark hallway from which he had come.  No, he couldn't leave.  Not yet.  Not without Toby.

He took a running step back in the other direction -- back toward the Fighter . . . .

. . . Then stopped at the sound of a hellish growl from behind.  The Squire turned slowly and found himself staring back in the direction of the door -- at the malevolent skeletal creature who now stood in front of it.  The young boy gulped hard.  "M-_Mordreth?" he breathed._

The Dark Lord's bony helm sneered as the Squire whispered the dreaded name and two scarlet bulbs seemed to flash from deep within the crevices of his eye sockets.  "Welcome, Young One," Mordreth rumbled.  "You have reached your end."

John fought an overwhelming surge of panic and defeat as the Dark Lord sneered at him again and raised a glowing hand.  The boy's fingers tightly gripped his medallion.  _Please, please, please . . . !  No . . . !_

John wailed as Mordreth emitted a blast toward him.  He held up his amulet to ward off the blow.  But the bolt spiraled away from the youth and struck the floor behind him, sending John to his hands and knees.

He staggered up and glanced forward again to meet the glowing hollow eyes of the evil one in front of him.  The boy felt himself quaking in fear.  Mordreth again raised a fiery hand, this time aiming it at the ceiling.  The rocks above began to glow, then rapidly descend.  John's eyes widened in terror, before squeezing shut as he waited for the impact.  He instinctively thrust his arms upward, medallion in hand.

He did sense a jolt, actually feeling the large slab of ceiling land upon the power of his force field.  For a moment, he was relieved.  His weapon had saved him!  John's momentary ease quickly melted away as he saw Mordreth still standing in the doorway, grinning evilly at him.  

The Squire soon found out why.  

As he tried to move, he felt the ceiling slip down a bit further.  He quickly realized that in order to get out from beneath the crushing rock above, he would have to cease the power of his weapon.  And he wasn't close enough to the edge of the slab to make it out from underneath in time.  

A glowing light surrounded Mordreth as the Dark Lord vanished from John's sight.  His rumbling voice, however, remained.  "I shall return, Young One, for your Weapon of Power.  Once you have ceased to be."

The Squire began to cry as he stretched skyward, holding the ceiling up.

*          *          *

Diana didn't wait for the Orc to act.  She raised her javelin high and took aim at the creature's hand.  Extending it quickly, she knocked the club from his grip, as though striking out with a cue stick.  The Orc stared, dumbstruck, at the sudden disappearance of one of his weapons.

Again, the Acrobat didn't give the beast time to recover -- or remember his whip.  She brought the end of the staff straight down and, taking a few running steps, planted it directly in front of the Orc, raising herself up and over his head.  As he turned to see her land behind him, easing his foot from Toby's back in the process, Diana hurled her staff through the air with a wild cry, catching the Orc on the side of the head and dropping him quickly.  

She gave a wry half-smile at the brute's recumbent form before turning her attention, finally, to her nephew.  Diana reached down to help him up.  

The teen was dazed, but unhurt.  He gripped Diana's wrist tightly and got to his feet.  "Aunt-- Aunt Di! . . . How did you--? . . . Where--? . . . H-how did you _know?"_

Diana smiled at him, a bit wearily, and opened her arms for a grateful and long overdue hug.  "Are you kidding?" she joked into his ear as tears began to cloud her vision, "You didn't think we were going to let you kids have all the fun, did you?"

Toby laughed, still bewildered, extremely relieved, and in complete disbelief of what he had just witnessed.  He always knew that his aunt was special.  But here in the Realm, she seemed larger than life.  Bobby had been right;  Diana was, indeed, amazing.  Toby held onto her with everything he had.

*          *          *

The Fighter had been recaptured.  It was the only explanation that John Montgomery could think of as to why Toby never showed up.  _Recaptured . . . __or __killed, he thought with growing terror.  _

Then an even more frightening thought struck him.  What if Toby was free?  Free and looking for him?  Lost in a different hallway?  What if the Fighter arrived here a few minutes from now to only find a rock wall, never knowing that John was underneath?  Never knowing that the way out was on the other side?  Never knowing that the Squire had held it up as long as he could?  _What if I die here?_

The force field generated by his weapon was impenetrable.  John knew that.  But he also knew that it was only as strong as the power he could force into it.  And that was fading fast.

John's entire body ached with his effort to hold his arms aloft and force strength into his amulet to keep the rock ceiling above his head.  The rock was close now, frighteningly close, and exceedingly heavy.  The young boy strangely thought of his reading class in school and the story of the Titan, Atlas, who held up the sky.  He hadn't liked that class, but now he wished he had paid more attention.  Maybe there was a clue in that myth as to how he, not a Titan but a mere boy, could keep this up.  One thing was for sure: he didn't dare look at the ceiling again.

Gradually, John began to notice the pain in his muscles less and less -- as though it had been there forever; and would be there forever.  As the rock pressed inexorably upon him, he thought about what might really happen if he ran; if he just made a wild lunge to get out of range.  Testing the waters, he inched a bit to the right, but a booming sound echoed in his ears and was joined by even more pressure from the ceiling above, forcing the youth lower, almost to one knee.  He tried to straighten up to the way he was before, but found that he didn't have the strength to raise the ceiling any higher.  The best that he could hope for was to prevent it from dropping any lower.  And for that, he had to remain still.

He kept his arms up high and tried to turn his head to scan the hallway behind him for Toby.  The eleven-year-old boy desperately wanted someone with him.  He didn't want to die alone.  He at least wanted someone to know that he had been here.  His thoughts flew to the others.  What had happened to them?  No doubt they were in the middle of saving the entire Realm by now while he stood here bawling like a baby.  _Don't cry!  Don't cry! he ordered himself -- without success._

His dad wouldn't have cried.  His dad had been a hero here.  That's what Bobby had said.  But John was no hero.  He wasn't like Eric.  And he was going to die here.

The boy knew that he would be instantly killed and his heart raced again in cold panic.  Or would he?  Would he die quickly or would the ceiling just press upon him and slowly crush him?  John's eyes blurred with the tears he was trying to keep back.  He felt nausea and a deep, cutting terror.  

His hands trembled as he clutched his medallion, the force field flickering as his young strength was taxed and drained.  He prayed that his weapon would at least get destroyed, too . . . so Mordreth would get no use out of it.  The Squire let out one exhausted wail as he sank to the floor and the medallion's energy faded completely . . . .

. . . Death, however, wasn't what he had expected.  There was no noise and no pain; no sensation at all, in fact -- aside from the perpetual ache that seemed commonplace by now.  The boy felt a strange and peaceful relief . . . mingling with the nausea . . . then realized something:  He couldn't quite catch his breath.  

. . . _Weird . . . .  _

Dead people don't need to pant for air.  Dead people don't feel every muscle in their bodies quiver and ache from overuse.  And dead people don't feel as if they might throw up at any second.  

John did.  

Somehow . . . he wasn't dead.  

Looking up, John saw that the ceiling remained hovering above his head.  (Even a bit higher above his head if that were possible.)  Something had stopped it.

"John--?"  A labored voice came from behind him.  A familiar voice.  John's panic was renewed as he slowly turned.

The Squire's eyes trailed up the figure who now stood above him.  The knee-high armored boots, the golden breastplate and the protective mail suit beneath, the mid-length red cape -- all these things were unfamiliar -- but the person's face . . . .

_Dad!  _

The boy's mouth moved as he stared at the Cavalier, who now bore the weight of the ceiling on a golden shield, but he could force no sound out.

It was Eric who spoke, clearly and authoritatively between strained breaths.  "John, . . . listen to me . . . .  I want you to head out that way, okay?"  He motioned with his head toward the still-open portcullis.  "Go on."

"_D-Dad?"_

John dumbly shook his head, mouth gaping.  

"John . . . ," Eric tried to assert his voice.  Even as the weight of the rock above made it necessary to spend less energy on speaking, Eric still forced the words out strongly.  "Son, . . . I need you to go out there . . . and wait for me."  A pained grunt escaped his throat, as the ceiling above trembled upon his shield.  "Go . . . _now!"_

John's heart raced with terror.  "I -- I can't."

Eric turned an enraged glare to his son.  "GO!" he shouted, his desperation making his trembling voice sound stronger than it actually was.  "_JOHN, GO NOW!"   _

John froze.  He wasn't sure if he was more frightened by the situation, or by his father's sudden fury.  Eric had never screamed at him like that before.  Not but a minute ago, John never thought he would see Eric again.  And now, for as exhilarated as he was that his father was actually here, he was suddenly petrified of him at the same time.  

The boy rose shakily to his feet and looked to the exit.  Eric had said he would meet John outside.  But . . . .

No.

Eric wouldn't be able to follow him.  John knew this.  He had a feeling Eric knew it, too.

As John looked from the open gate back to his father, Eric gave him an encouraging, insistent nod, trying resolutely to hide his growing fatigue.  "Go on!"

John made up his mind.  He looked at Eric for a solemn moment, whispered, "I-I'm sorry, Dad," and then raced past the Cavalier back into the hallway of the castle.  

"_John!"  Eric couldn't turn.  Couldn't move.__  "__Damn it!  JOHN!"_

The Squire didn't look back.  He had to get help.  Now, he _had to go back and find Toby.  "I'll be back, Dad!" he cried as he ran.  "Just hang on!"  __Please, hang on!  And he vanished around the corner._

The Cavalier's legs felt as though they would buckle beneath him.  "Please, God, keep him safe," he whispered through gritted teeth as he sank lower from the weight of the ceiling.  _I love you, Son._

*          *          *

Toby pulled away from Diana at the sound of someone screaming his name.  For a minute, the Fighter was annoyed.  That was John; and he clearly hadn't listened.  Toby knew the boy's first instinct had been to stay and help him, but he didn't think John would throw caution to the wind by screaming like that.

Until he heard it again.

"_TOBY!"_

There was urgency in the Squire's voice.  Panic . . . even sheer terror.  "John?" Toby cried in response as the boy appeared in the doorway, his face soaked with sweat, both from running and from fighting the dread that Toby saw in his eyes.

Diana must have seen it, too.  "John!" she also shouted, racing over to the young Squire and falling to her knees, forgetting for a moment that he probably had no idea who she was.  Toby was right behind her as she caught hold of John's shoulders.  "Where's Eric?  I-I mean your _father?" she demanded. _

John didn't hesitate, nor did he ask how she knew his dad.  "Back there!"  He pointed up the stairs and into the darkened hallway behind him, his voice a bundle of tangled sobs.  "You have to help him!" he begged.

"I will," Diana said as she rose to her feet.  She then directed her voice at her nephew.  "Watch him," she ordered steadily.  

"But--," Toby began, but was silenced by Diana's cold, hard stare.

"Don't argue with me, Tobias Jackson Beckett!" she warned.  "Stay with John and watch him!"  The Acrobat clutched her weapon and dashed up the steps.

John felt Toby's hand on his shoulder, but was too frozen with fear to turn around.  "Don't worry, Johnny Boy, she'll help him," he heard the Fighter's voice say.  Toby was trying to be cheerful, although he could only manage a thin, worried smile.  "That's my Aunt Diana."

*          *          *

Diana was overcome with a sick feeling when she spotted the Cavalier bent under the unrelenting weight of the rock ceiling.  Even with the power of his shield, he couldn't keep that up forever.  _Sweet Jesus, she thought as she ran, __This is not good!  Very little else had time to flash through her brain as she found herself adding even more force to her sprint to reach her friend.  "Eric!" she cried._

"John?" the Cavalier inquired weakly.

"Safe," Diana replied as she slid under the rock behind him.

"Get out!" he strained, "My weapon can take care of this!"

"I can't tell you what a relief that is, Eric," Diana remarked at his obstinacy as she inserted her staff between the floor and ceiling and extended it until it touched both.  She mentally braced the rod as best she could to keep it from bending.  "But I think you've had enough fun for one day!"  She held the javelin securely for a few moments before trying to extended it even higher.  It held, but it wouldn't for long, and she only succeeded at raising the ceiling a fraction of an inch.  "No good, Cavalier," she groaned as she struggled to help Eric bolster the rock, "That's all I've got.  It'll have to do.  C'mon out!"

"I can't," Eric managed.  "The ceiling lowers every time I try to move."

"Eric, we can't just stay here!" Diana's voice whooshed out through her exertion.  

_I never asked you to come in! Eric thought fleetingly, although he was grateful for the minor relief that the Acrobat's weapon provided.  "Look, I've tried, okay?  The two of us can hold it together, but only one of us can leave at a time!  And taking turns seems counterproductive!"_

"So, what do you suggest we do?" 

"Damned if I know," Eric said strainingly.

Diana wrestled to keep her staff straight under the weight of the ceiling for a moment, before coming to a decision.  "Listen, Eric, I think I have an idea."

"Eureka," the Cavalier groaned. 

"Can you get yourself turned around to face me?"

"This better be ingenious," Eric muttered wearily as he shifted his grip on his shield so that he could rotate his body while keeping his weapon aloft.  As he slowly came around and his eyes focused on Diana, he flashed her a labored smile.  "Making progress now, aren't we?"

She returned his grin wanly before surveying the distance between him and the edge of the rock a few feet behind her.  He was nearly in the center; a good ten yards away from her, at least.  A bit far.  "Are your legs too tired to run?"

"Have they ever been?" he joked.

"Okay then, listen," Diana grunted, "Get ready to sprint like hell!"

"No good," Eric returned, "If we both try to run, this thing will crash down faster than the Stock Market of '29!"

"I wasn't going to suggest that we both go at once," Diana told him jadedly.  "You're too far away from the edge for that to work anyway.  Listen, my javelin is not nearly as strong as your shield for this type of thing, but if I need it to, it'll hold long enough for you to get past me."

"You don't understand," the Cavalier insisted, "Once I leave, you'll be stuck!  It's impossible to move without dropping the ceiling!  And that stick of yours isn't gonna hold it long!"  

Diana's eyes bore into his.  "Like I said, it'll hold long enough."

Eric suddenly felt sick.  "I hope you're not saying what I think you're saying!"  Diana didn't respond; only met his stare with emotionless, inflexible eyes.  "_You are totally, purely, certifiably, in-need-of-some-serious-medication, out of your mind!" he wailed, his voice suddenly finding strength.  "I'm not leaving you here!"_

"Eric, listen to me," Diana said, her voice stern yet calmly insistent, "I've said a lot to you over the years.  But if you've ever cared for anything I've ever had to say, please listen to me now.  You don't have the option to be stubborn about this!  You have a son who needs you and you need to go back to him!"

"Not if that means--"

"Eric!  I made a promise to a little boy that I would help his father and I intend to keep it!"  Diana was unwavering in her position.  "Don't make me into a liar.  Not to a little kid!  Your son loves you and needs to see that you're okay!"

Eric hesitated, his eyes never leaving hers.  He could see in them that the Acrobat had no intention of following him out.  He, however, had no intention of leaving her here.  He slowly shook his head.  "I-I can't, Diana," he muttered, suddenly forgetting the intense weight of the rock.  "I won't leave you."

"Damn it, Eric!  You _have to!" she hissed, more like a disguised sob.  "You have a responsibility to that boy!  Trust me, it's a responsibility __I would die for!  If you want to help me, then do this:  You put your son __first!  Put him first now __and put him first when you get him home!  Remember what I said last night.  Don't waste the time you have with John.  And don't give him up for anything.  Not for your job, not for me, not for _anything_!"  _

Eric stared dumbly at Diana, who was fully crying now but still forcing her words out with tremendous strength and resolve.  "Eric, your son has lived his entire life without a mother!  _Don't let him lose you, too!  And __don't let me be the one who couldn't stop that from happening!  __Please!"_

Eric's face was soberly pale and his voice throaty and guttural.  "Okay," he conceded as his features became harsh.

Diana felt relieved at Eric's surrender.  But equally petrified, as the ramifications of his decision were quite final.  "Tell Toby I love him," she pleaded dryly.

A fleeting image of Kosar flashed through her head.  The thought that she could be seeing him shortly gave her some comfort.  _Maybe this was what Dungeon Master meant.  She braced herself, nodded to the Cavalier, and he carefully, reluctantly, lowered his shield._

The Acrobat felt the sudden jolt from the ceiling as it weighed entirely on her staff now.  She knew it would only be a matter of seconds before the pressure from above caused her weapon to buckle and snap.  She focused as much mental energy as she could to keep it from doing that until after Eric was clear.  She shakily raised her head to the Cavalier, who was only standing there, watching her.  _Was he out of his mind?  "Eric!  There's no time!  Go!  I can't hold this!"_

Eric sprinted.  

Diana watched as he made a mad dash for the edge of the stone slab above their heads.  She offered up a thankful whisper, mingled with a frightened prayer.  She prayed that it would end quickly.  Diana met Eric's eyes as he passed,—

— then suddenly turned and headed straight for her.  Diana had no time to react or question as a sudden impact hit her dead center, driving the wind from her lungs.  The world reeled and Diana could see nothing.  She felt her javelin suddenly wrenched from her hands as the ceiling met the floor with earthquake force.

*          *          *

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**Author's Notes:**  Don't you just hate when things aren't uniform?  I've been attempting to revise my previous chapters to compensate for the fact that FF.Net doesn't seem to like the way I format the title section of my story.  I've been trying a few different ways; hopefully one will work so I can make all the chapters look (somewhat) similar to each other!  (Blasted perfectionism!)

In other news, sorry it took so long to get this chapter up.  The next one shouldn't take so long.  (It's amazing what summer vacation and foot surgery will force you to sit down and do!)  

Let me just take the opportunity (again!) to thank those who have reviewed!  Especially those who keep coming back!  You know who you are, and I hope you know what your kind words mean to this little authoress!  (In answer to one, in particular – is the first "force of evil" down?  Yes.  Out? . . . well, that's an entirely different story!  Venger kept coming back, as you well know.  And you know what they say about a woman scorned!)  

Remember that feedback is the food and drink of any author.  Don't forget to review!  *VBG*  


	10. The Hidden Blade

**Disclaimer:  **Since its development in 1983, the animated series _Dungeons and Dragons_ has belonged to the following at some point:  Marvel Productions, TSR, Inc., Wizards of the Coast,  Saban Entertainment, (according to rumor) Disney, and possibly even others.  I guess my point is, it does not (nor has it ever) belonged to me.  Oh, well!  This story, however, does!  I hope you enjoy it!

**Rating:  ****PG_-_13 for some language and violent elements**

**Quick-Note:**  Sorry for the unexpected delay.  I've been having laptop trouble.  Also, for those who have read this chapter in _Darkhaven_ already, this is only slightly different.  The text is mostly the same, but the arrangement of the sequences has changed a bit, for the better, I think.  Thanks, Tarvok, for the initial advice and Chance for the additional input!

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LEGACY   
Chapter 10 – The Hidden Blade 

Bobby groaned and rubbed his aching shoulder, windmilling his arm as he walked, trying to force the stiffness out.  After spending so many hours with his arms bound, it was not surprising that he was still in pain, but the Barbarian still cursed his limbs for not ridding him of the ache sooner.  As his arm came around and he allowed it to hang at his side, Teri slipped her hand into his, giving him a smile as they walked on.

"Maybe we should take a break," Sheila advised, still worried about what her brother had been through.

"Hank, how long did it take for you guys to get to the Citadel from Tardos Keep?" Bobby asked, trying to ignore Sheila's concern.

"A couple hours if we walked straight," the Ranger replied.  "But we got a late start because we were still trying to find out where you were.  So we ended up having to stop for the night."  He placed a hand on the Dreamer's shoulder.  "If it wasn't for Teri, we wouldn't have even been able to guess what had happened at all, or even known where to begin."

Teri blushed a bit as Bobby looked at her and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.  "It was really Varla who found out where you were," she said modestly.  "If she hadn't been able to contact Uni, anything I saw in my dreams would have been worthless.  It wouldn't have told us what direction to travel."

Bobby scowled broodingly.  Uni.  He would never forgive himself if anything happened to her after he had been so careless in allowing Kadysse to mess with his mind.  "I'm sorry, guys," he grumbled as he looked at Ayesha.  At least nothing had happened to his niece.  "I can't help but think that it's all my fault we're scattered around like this.  If I had just waited at Tardos until morning, we could have met up with you and we'd all be together.  Hell, we might even be home right now!"  

"You didn't know," Sheila said.  "And as for Tardos, we almost knocked on the door, ourselves.  None of us ever thought that the Keep would be invaded and captured."

"The important thing right now is to find the others," Hank added.  "Tardos is the best place to return to because we know that Presto and Varla are there already.  Maybe we'll even get there in time to help them."

"And maybe Eric and Diana are on their way back there, too, with Toby and John!" Ayesha offered hopefully.

Bobby smiled at everyone's optimism.  In his own mind, however, they couldn't get there fast enough.  He wouldn't feel better until everyone was back at Tardos Keep and Uni and the others were safe.  He shielded his eyes from the suns, taking the opportunity to shrug the kinks out of his other shoulder.  Yes, the sooner they got there, the better.  He just hoped it would be before dark.  "Hank, what time do you suppose it is anyway?"

The Ranger noted the positions of the four suns.  "I'm not exactly sure, Bobby, but I'd say it's probably close to noon."

*          *          *

The pain was stunning and flooded her head as she opened her eyes.  It was as though it had a mind of its own and decided that it didn't want the Mystic to sleep through what it had to offer; and so remained dormant, waiting for her to wake up.

Varla's eyes could focus on nothing, not just because of the pain that filled her head, but also from the blackness that surrounded her.  Her mouth was pasty with the taste of bile at the sudden panic that knotted her stomach.  Nothing but darkness all around her . . . and no idea as to how to get out.  For a few moments Varla couldn't move.  Then she gripped her head and rolled to her side--

--Or, at least, she tried to.  As she attempted to turn over to curl into a protective ball, the Mystic found herself falling.  The sudden feeling of air beneath her again caused her to cry out, but it was short lived as she bumped into the floor which, as it turned out, had been only a few inches away.  She must have been lying on something.  Like a mattress, or a . . . .  

Varla heard a groan, but it didn't come from her.  Then she remembered what had happened.  She reached her arm out and groped through the darkness.  "Presto?  Daddy?  Is that you?"

Another groan and then she felt his hand clutching hers.  It was a few moments before he was able to speak.  "You okay?"  His voice was so hoarse.

Varla was relieved.  Still petrified, but knowing that Presto was here in the darkness with her offered some comfort.  "My head's killing me," the young girl whimpered, unable to hold in her sob.  

"Mmm-hmm," Presto groaned in response.  Varla could tell that he was trying to move and was probably in a lot of pain as well.  Even more than her, in all likelihood, since she had obviously landed on top of him when they hit the bottom of the pit.  

Presto cursed under his breath as he strained to lift himself, actually believing that he felt his bones scrape together as he moved.  "Man, I can't see a thing," he said lamely, focusing on the least of his afflictions.

"Me neither," Varla responded from the black.

"No," Presto emitted the word in what sounded like a half-grunt, half-laugh.  "I think they finally broke."  The Magician was referring to his glasses.  One of the stems had, indeed, broken off.  But there was no time to worry about that right now.  He balanced them on his nose as best he could.  "We have to get out of here," he said, returning to the task at hand.  He felt around the floor surrounding him for the familiar feel of thin, cone-shaped cloth . . . before remembering that Bane had taken his magic hat.  _Perfect!_

"Omigod!" Varla suddenly exclaimed.  "How long have we been down here?  We have to help Uni!"

Presto's heart sank.  He had no idea how long they had been out, or if they even had a chance to help the unicorn now.  But one thing was for sure: they couldn't do anything sitting down here.  Presto struggled to get to his feet, then collapsed with a strangled cry, clutching his hammered ribs.

"Daddy?!  Are you okay?" Varla asked with deep concern.

"Fine," Presto managed, momentarily thankful for the darkness that surrounded them so Varla wouldn't see that he was lying -- although she could probably hear it in his voice.  Presto didn't want to focus on that right now.  He needed to find a way to get them both out without his hat.

The Magician froze for a moment to gather himself before attempting to move again, preparing for another shooting pain through his side.  He let out a whoosh of air and prudently removed his hand from his ribs.  As he brought it down, it brushed against the pouch at his waist.  _Wait a minute!  He froze again.  "Varla, come here!"_

The Mystic brought her arms up in front of her, fingers searching through the air for her father.  "Where are--?"  The girl suddenly felt Presto grab her wrist and press a thin wooden stick into her hand.  Her wand.  Varla had forgotten that her father still had it.

The Mystic was relieved to have it back, but suddenly terrified all at once.  If she had the wand, Presto would expect her to use it.  She was, again, suddenly unsure whether she could.  "Presto, I don't know," she muttered.

"You have to," the Magician insisted, "If you can move objects, you can certainly lift yourself out of here.  Just concentrate!"

"I just don't know if I can lift both of us," she said warily.  "I could barely lift a rock!  And the last big thing I tried to move, . . . well, . . . I blew it up!"

Presto sighed.  "Varla, honey, you're the only one capable of doing anything right now," he informed her.  "If you don't think you can do us both, you're going to have to leave me here and find help somehow."

Varla stiffened.  There was no way she was going to leave Presto behind.  Even if she didn't quite trust her abilities, she had to try.  "Move behind me," she instructed.  Presto smiled arduously.  He knew she could do it.  Now all she had to do was trust herself, like she did before.

Presto moved with difficulty closer to Varla as the girl gripped her wand tightly in both hands and shut her eyes.  The delicate stick began to glow faintly.  Presto's stomach turned as the dim light finally enabled him to see her bruised face and head and her torn clothing.  It was all he could do to keep himself from telling his daughter to forget the whole thing; that she had already been hurt enough; that she would stay safe if she just stayed down here.  Presto wondered for a moment if he would be able to use her wand -- to go up in her place.  The thought disappeared quickly.  No matter what they were to face up there, he couldn't justify leaving her down here alone.  He moved behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder; the other tightly clutching his side again.

The soft glow of the wand surrounded them both as the Mystic concentrated on what she wanted it to do.  Presto, as though it would help, whispered a few magic words of his own:  "_Winds that blow and sands that shift, we need to get topside, so give us a lift!"  Whether his words actually supplied any assistance or not, the Mystic and the Magician soon felt their feet leave the ground.  Presto applied gentle pressure to Varla's shoulder, encouraging her onward.  They were almost to the top, but Varla wasn't about to look._

Even when their feet rested firmly on the ground in the room above the pit, she was reluctant to break her concentration, as though that would send them plummeting downward once more.  It wasn't until Presto spoke that Varla finally opened her eyes to see what she had done.  "Varla!  You did it, Princess!"

The Mystic looked around as the wand's glow died down and almost whooped for joy at her success.  Catching herself before she made any betraying noise, the girl instead turned to her father and hurled herself at him in a fervent hug.  She felt Presto flinch and heard a stifled noise, like he was trying to hold in a painful grunt, and she immediately jumped back.  "I thought you said you were okay!"  She took her first look at her father and cringed at the deep purple welt on his head and the accompanying bloodied tear in the left sleeve of his robe.  She could only imagine what his back and side must look like -- where he had landed -- as well as where she had landed on top of him.  "_Are you okay?" she prodded him for the truth, offering him one of the colorful scarves from her dress to use as a bandage for his bleeding arm._

Presto smiled at  her simple gesture.  "I will be," he assured her with a groan, accepting the colorful scarf with a comforting grin and allowing her to help him wrap his upper arm.  Then he looked around.  Uni was no longer in the room.  Bane must have taken her to the courtyard.  Either that, or it was all over.  Presto forced himself not to think about the latter.  "Come on," he grunted as he made for the door.  "We've got a ceremony to stop."

Varla nodded and followed him, praying that they weren't too late.

*          *          *

The rumble still echoed through Mordreth's castle, and the thick dust that flooded the hallway after the ceiling came crashing down was enough to gag.  Diana lie on her back with her eyes closed, but she didn't need to see the rubble around her to know that it must resemble the fallout of an earthquake or a cave-in.  As the particles of dust entered her lungs, she heaved in a choking breath, but had difficulty expelling it due to the dead weight on top of her.  

She writhed to turn to her side, and she felt the weight release; Eric rolling off of her and propping himself up on one elbow as Diana coughed out the tickling dust.  He placed a hand on her back as she struggled to draw in air that was free of debris.  "Are you all right?" he asked, following his question with a series of choking breaths himself.

Diana finally turned, bleary-eyed, back to him.  "That was stupid, Eric.  Really stupid."

"You're saying that like you're surprised!" Eric replied hoarsely, forcefully clearing his throat of the last of the dust.

Diana struggled to get to her knees, her entire body a mesh of aches and pains -- from her chest and stomach where Eric had plowed into her, to her back and head where she had hit the stone floor.  She turned herself around so she would face him.  "What you did," she gasped, "Could have gotten us _both killed!  Then where would that leave your son?"_

Eric only shook his head.  "Saving one person that I care about at the expense of another doesn't sit too well with me," he replied with uncharacteristic earnest.  

Diana didn't speak, not even to ask him to clarify.  She stared at him somberly for a moment, then wrapped her arms around his neck in a fervent hug, not caring that his returning embrace put painful pressure on her bruised back.  "Thank you," she whispered.  After a few seconds she pulled away and crawled toward the pile of rubble searching for her staff.  

She found it in two pieces, the javelin clearly having snapped under the weight of the ceiling after Eric's tackle had forced her to let go.  She grabbed the broken fragments of her weapon and fitted the splintered ends together.  The jade glow illuminating from the staff fused the jagged ends, and the weapon was whole once more.  She used it to raise herself painfully to her feet.  The lump that was forming at the back of her head made her dizzy, but Diana did her best to ignore it.

Eric got up as well, and realized that his legs wouldn't stop shaking.  After forcing his muscles to remain locked and stiff beneath him, they now quivered involuntarily from overuse.  The Cavalier found himself moving like a beginning gymnast on a balance beam, conscious of every wobbly step he took as he walked over to where his shield had fallen.  "Where's John?" he asked the Acrobat.

"I left him with Toby," she answered, hurrying over to Eric as fast as she could, leaning heavily upon her staff.  "The two of them are back that way."  She pointed toward the darkened hallway from which she had come.

The Cavalier glanced back at the pile of rubble behind them as he offered a shaky shoulder of support to Diana.  "Well, we can't get out this door, anyway," he said.  "Keep your eyes peeled for another way out on our way to get the boys."

Diana grinned as she gripped Eric's arm with one hand, in an attempt to give him the support he needed as well, and her staff with the other.  "Is your son going to be glad to see you!" she told him.

*          *          *

John pulled Toby along the hallway.  The Fighter was wary about leaving the spot where Diana had left them, but at the same time he was concerned that if they stayed put, they were just asking for more Orc soldiers to find them.  Making their way through the halls at least made them moving targets; more importantly, they were now armed moving targets.  And if they walked in the direction that John pointed out as the one that would lead them to the others, then maybe they would even get there in time to help.  It had been far too long already.

Toby's hand clamped down on the Squire's shoulder at the sight of the next corner and drew the boy back a bit.  "What?" John asked quietly.

"Orcs maybe," Toby whispered back as he eyed a large moving shadow cast upon the wall ahead of them.  The Fighter uncoiled his whip and held it ready as he instructed John to stay beside him.  The elongated shadow grew a bit smaller every moment and Toby knew that meant that whatever it was, . . . it was heading toward them; drawing nearer to the corner.  He held his breath and waited.

He released that breath in a sigh of relief upon seeing what he had thought to be one large Orc soldier actually materialize into two smaller figures as Eric and Diana rounded the corner, leaning heavily on each other.  John bobbed impatiently at the Fighter's side before rushing forward, calling out to Eric.  "Dad!"

Eric's ears caught the sound and he abruptly lifted his head and pulled away from Diana, forgetting for a moment about his unsteady legs and stumbling to the floor after the first few steps of an awkward, staggering run.  John, however, was by his side in an instant.  Eric smiled at him and said the only thing he could think of by way of a greeting, "Hey, Sport."  He then grabbed his son in a fervid embrace.

Diana grinned and caught the eye of her nephew.  The two exchanged a knowing smile before the Fighter walked over to receive a hug from her as well.

"How did you find us, Dad?" John finally asked.

Eric shrugged as he pulled away from the boy.  "Didn't I tell you I would come to one of your things?"  John flashed a huge smile, which Eric returned.  "Granted, it's not a  hockey game, but it's a start."

John was overjoyed.  Even though they were still surrounded by the bleakness of Mordreth's castle, he had never felt better in his life.  He looked up at Diana and smiled, a smile of sincere thanks, which she returned warmly.  His eyes caught sight of something on their way back to his father -- the Cavalier's shield.  He stared long and hard at it, or, more specifically, at the griffin head that adorned it, until Eric followed his gaze.  Both then focused their vision on the identical crest blazoned upon John's tabard and medallion.  

Eric grinned wearily.  "Who's your tailor?" he asked as he tousled his son's hair.

Eric shook his head with a smirk and attempted to stand, leveraging himself slightly with John's shoulder.  "Well, let's go, '_Squire,'" he announced with a grunt as he rose to his feet.  John scrambled to pick up the Cavalier's shield and Eric chuckled, seemingly no longer in pain and even touched by the boy's eagerness.  He smiled broadly and looked at all of them.  "We need to find a way out of here."  _

And he turned.

The Cavalier's smile quickly melted as he found himself staring into a set of hollow skeletal eyes, lit only by two scarlet bulbs of light.  Before he could shout for everyone to get back, Mordreth's massive hand shot forward and closed around his throat.  Eric only had enough time to shove John away from him before the Dark Lord lifted him off the floor.

"_No!" John screamed at the top of his lungs as Diana simultaneously commanded both boys to take cover.  The Squire was rooted by terror and the Acrobat literally had to shove him toward Toby as she drew her staff up for fighting.  Eric clawed at the huge hand that encircled his neck, kicking wildly, trying to feel some scrap of floor beneath his feet.  He managed to open one eye to glare at the Dark Lord before him, who held him at arm's length with a vicious smile spread across his skeletal face.  Mordreth squeezed tighter and the Cavalier's vision was corrupted by tears and a swell of blackened spots.  Yet he continued his struggle._

Diana rushed forward, swinging her extended javelin over her head with a wild cry.  She jammed it into the floor and hoisted herself over Mordreth's head, pivoting on the balls of her feet as she landed and swinging the staff toward the Dark Lord with all her strength.

He caught it.  

As the javelin soared toward the back of Mordreth's head, he reached back and caught it, straight-armed, not the least bit fazed by the force that Diana put behind her thrust.  Diana stared wide-eyed as the Dark Lord of Destruction turned his head downward toward her, his smile widening.  "These are the Young Ones who defeated my Master's first champion?" he snarled.  "I had hoped for something more."

Diana glanced down in time to see the large gauntleted hand holding her javelin begin to glow with a fiery energy, but not in enough time to react.  A surge of power traveled up her staff and speared through the Acrobat's body as though she had been gripping a lightning rod in an electrical storm.  She screamed, but couldn't pry her fingers away from the volted javelin.  The world faded into black as Diana gritted her teeth and struggled with consciousness.  She still couldn't see anything when she felt Mordreth pull his arm forward then back swiftly, taking her with it like a game of snap-the-whip, and sending her tumbling across the floor.  He then turned his attention back to Eric.  "You are even more foolish than the pathetic inhabitants of this Realm," his hellish voice rumbled at the Cavalier.  "At least they do not come searching for their doom."

"Hey, Bonehead!" Toby shouted and struck out with his whip, snapping it around Mordreth's waist.  He attempted to pull his enemy off balance when the Dark Lord's hand clamped around the lash, pulling it taut.  The Fighter glanced down in surprise when the rigid whip suddenly seemed to writhe in his hands.  Toby found himself gripping the tail end of a black serpent where his weapon used to be, and stiffened in fright.  Mordreth, gripping the hissing head of the snake, flung it, fangs bared, toward the youth.  Toby recoiled with a strangled cry and dropped his weapon, stumbling backward into John.  The moment his fingers released the viperous serpent, it crumpled to the floor -- a whip once again.  Toby stared at it in disbelief.  _An illusion!_

Diana fought the need to pass out tooth and nail, forcing her eyes to remain open and seeing nothing but dancing stars and a swirling haze as she struggled to drag herself back toward Mordreth and the Cavalier.  The evil one glanced down at her again.  "Annoying insect," he growled.  

He loosened his grip on Eric's throat momentarily, as though getting some kind of perverse pleasure out of giving the Cavalier the presence of mind to see what he was about to do, then released the electric energy yet again, this time charging the ground all around the Acrobat.  Eric tried to yell out to her, but could only manage a guttural strangled sound as he continued to pry at Mordreth's grip.

The constant stream of voltage coursing through her made it pointless to scream.  Diana painfully grit her teeth and clawed at the stone floor beneath her.  She could visibly see the blue electricity rippling up and down her limbs; every second that she remained on that floor bringing with it a fresh shock.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Toby moving.  "_GET BACK!" she cried, before collapsing in a nerveless heap._

John clutched his father's shield and stood beside a raging Toby as both boys kept their distance from the electric floor.  Regardless of Diana's warning, the Fighter tried desperately to find a way to her.  One step on the stones near her feet sent a jolt through the boy that propelled him back toward John.  The Dark Lord turned a vacuous eye toward them.  "Fear not, young fools," he growled.  "It shall soon be your turn."

"W-what are we going to do?" John cried as he watched helplessly.

"_I DON'T KNOW!" Toby screamed in desperation.  "Aunt Di!  __Aunt __Di, __ANSWER __ME!"_

The boys' desperate cries seemed to satiate Mordreth and he reveled in listening to them as he turned back to Eric.  "The meddlesome Young Ones have caused my Master a great deal of trouble in the past, Cavalier," he rumbled, his voice quiet, but deeper than the depths of Hades itself.  "Fitting that you and your accursed friends and offspring have returned to the Realm in time to share its fate!"

Eric wrenched and twisted at the hand that dangled him above the floor.  His eyes burned at the evil being before him.  Strangely, he felt no emotions similar to the ones he may have felt at another time in his life.  There was no fear.  None.  Only rage -- pure, unadulterated rage.  "I am disappointed," Mordreth mused.  "No proud words, Cavalier?"

Eric's facial features trembled as he glared hotly at the evil creature.  "_. . . __Go to hell, . . . you son of a--"  His last words were choked out of him as the Dark Lord tightened his grip, completely cutting off Eric's wind._

"I did not think so," the creature sneered.

"_DAD!"  John frantically scanned the room for something -- anything.  His line of vision fell to the Fighter's whip that lay in a discarded pile on the ground.  Then to Diana.  His eyes widened suddenly.  "Toby, can you use your whip to get that?"_

Toby's eyes followed the Squire's pointing finger to where Diana's staff lay on the floor beside her.  He reached for his weapon but hesitated for a moment, his trembling fingers mere inches from it, almost expecting it to morph back into its serpentine form.  He grit his teeth and forced himself to snatch it up quickly, thrusting it forward, grappling around the javelin, and flinging it back toward him.  It clattered at John's feet.  "Now what?"

John gripped the staff tightly and examined it.  The poker-straight javelin was far from ideal, but it would have to do.  He yanked the golden disk from around his neck, dropping it to the ground in front of him, and leveraged it at a slight angle with the tip of his boot.

"John!" Toby cried incredulously.  "What do you think you're doing?!"

"Just an old fashioned slap shot," the boy muttered as he raised Diana's staff in a backswing.  "Hey, Skull Face!" he called out to Mordreth, then brought the staff down against his medallion with as much force as he could, sending it sailing toward their enemy.

Mordreth looked up, surprised, in time for the medallion to strike him squarely in the skull and send him floundering and falling back, dropping Eric in the process and killing the magic that had been electrifying the stone around Diana.

As soon as the Cavalier hit the floor, both boys were running again, Toby toward Diana and John toward his father.  The Squire stopped suddenly, his attention drawn to a luminescence at his belt -- at his empty scabbard.  He looked at Eric and began running once more.

The Cavalier tried desperately to scramble away from Mordreth before the Dark Lord recovered, while at the same time trying to find a moment to gasp and choke for air.  He wasn't being very successful in either case.  Out of the corner of his bleary eye, he saw Mordreth moving again from where he had fallen and croaked out an order for somebody to get him his shield.  Eric felt a weapon pressed into his hand, but it was not the leather straps that he was accustomed to slipping over his arm.  It was something else -- long and heavy.  He managed to squint his eyes into focus on it.

A sword.

_What in the world?  He looked up at John who was hovering over him.  "Where did you get this?" he demanded hoarsely as he struggled to his knees, with the help of the blade.  He turned on his hands and knees to face the recuperating Dark Lord with his son behind him._

"I-It's yours," the boy muttered, his mouth dry as a desert as he watched Mordreth rise.

Eric snapped his head back to look at John briefly.  "I don't think so, John," he gasped as he fought to stand.  "My only weapon was the shield.  Where did you _find this?"_

"I think I always had it," John replied hurriedly, "In an empty holster in my belt.  Venger said it would show up when it was needed."  He stared in terror at Mordreth, who was straightening to his full height.  The fiery bulbs in his eye sockets were brighter than before; a newly formed, black fissure snaked down the front of his skull where John's medallion had struck him.  He raised a glowing hand to the pair in front of him.  "I'd say we need your sword now!" the boy added.

Eric gripped it tightly but awkwardly in both hands as he eyed Mordreth.  He had no idea how to use this thing.  He didn't even know where it came from or what it could do.  "Son," he breathed in a unsure voice, "It's not my--"

"It _has to be!" John insisted in a quiet whimpery sob.  "It has to be because . . . I . . . I think I'm __your squire!"_

Eric cast a sideways look at his son, a boy who meant more to him than anything in the world -- in _any world.  A boy who was, quite possibly, the only thing for whom Eric would willingly travel back down a road he would have gladly left behind.   A boy who, like Cassie had told him, needed to know how much Eric really loved him.  The Cavalier would protect this boy . . . even if it meant using a weapon with which he was unfamiliar . . . even a weapon that had come from Venger . . . because it had also come from his son; his squire.  _

Eric would protect all four of them with another weapon as well.  One of his own that, likewise, always seemed to appear from nowhere whenever he needed it most -- even as a spoiled teenager when it seemed so against his character.  His courage.  And he would do so to his dying breath.  The Cavalier wrapped his fingers tightly around the hilt of the long silver blade with steely determination and girded himself for what was to come.  "Get behind me," he ordered.

John did as he was told just as Mordreth's magic began speeding toward them.  Eric locked his legs at shoulder width and held the unfamiliar weapon aloft, then made a sudden 90 degree turn, dragging John with him as the magic swept past them.  Both could feel the violent freeze radiating from the icy blue blast as it soared by and hit the wall, blowing part of it away.  The Cavalier's gaze focused on where John had previously dropped the shield.  

"This sword won't do any good if I can't get close enough to use it!" he said as Mordreth readied another attack.  He looked toward a shallow pile of rocks that the Dark Lord's magic had blasted out of the wall.  "You head for those at the next attack," he commanded the boy.  "I've gotta get my shield!"

"But--" John began to protest, but was cut off by Mordreth's magic.  Eric separated from his son, pushing him toward the rocks to hide as he made a break for his shield.  The Cavalier turned as the Dark Lord started formulating another spell, stepping cautiously back and trying to get Mordreth to focus on him -- away from John and away from Toby who was attempting to move the limp Diana.  Eric shuddered as he took a brief second to look at her, before turning his attention back to Mordreth.  The Dark Lord regarded Eric with a snarl and raised his hand again.  The Cavalier turned and bolted for his shield.

As soon as Eric's back was turned, Mordreth refocused his attack, striking out toward the Squire before the youth could reach the rock pile.  John swerved and screamed as the force from the blast sent him sailing to the floor, dazed and helpless without his medallion.

Eric turned his head at John's cry.  The boy's plight was grave, but in a few more steps the protection of Eric's shield would be within reach -- and the Cavalier couldn't defend either one of them without it.  He made a few more reluctant steps toward the downed weapon as he turned again to see Mordreth take a menacing step toward John, his hand aglow once more.

_Screw it!_

Eric's feet awkwardly slid from beneath him, as though he was running on ice, as he abandoned his shield and abruptly changed direction.  Catching himself with one hand on the stone floor, he stumbled back onto his feet and charged toward where his enemy had John trapped.  

Mordreth sneered viciously.  "Farewell, young fool," he rumbled as he released the energy at the panicked boy.

Eric slid between them as the spell struck, sword thrust out in a horizontal parry; not knowing if it could save both of them, but not caring, as long as his son behind him remained unharmed.  He screamed an involuntary curse as the power of the magic striking the sword numbed his hands, staggering him.  Then turned his head as a flash of white light blinded his vision.  

The sword suddenly pulsed in his grip, burning with the magic that had struck it but, miraculously, not going any further.  Eric looked up and squinted at the throbbing radiance as the Archmage's spell, which had been raining upon the new sword, suddenly changed color from an icy blue to a brilliant white and remained trapped within the blade.  

Mordreth seemed just as surprised as Eric for the briefest of seconds, then raised his hand again with a predatory snarl.  The Cavalier did not want to give the evil creature time to act.  Wailing, he swiped awkwardly and blindly through the air with the magic-charged sword as another flash of brilliant white forced his eyes to squeeze shut once more.  Eric heard a malevolent roar and opened one eye as he suddenly felt the pulsing magic rush out of the sword and speed toward his enemy.  It surrounded Mordreth like an orb; he a dark nucleus trapped in a circle of white.  

Eric stared in disbelief from the orb to the sword in his choking grip; a sword that suddenly dematerialized in his hand in a swirl of pale white light and shot toward the confines of John's scabbard, disappearing inside and leaving it empty once more.  Eric waved his hand over the opening of the barren sheath, but the blade did not appear again.  He turned back to stare at the imprisoned Archmage, muttered something inaudible and collapsed against John, finally gasping for air.  The boy wrapped his arms around his father's neck and shoulders.

A bright flash and a rumbling quake shocked them back to alertness.  The Lord of Destruction continued to thunder inside his spherical prison until he succeeded at punching a hole through its surface.  Eric scrambled to sit up straight and turned to John to grip the sword again.  The weapon remained invisible and dormant, as though it had never been there at all.  "_Damn it!" Eric swore under his breath as he turned his head to where Mordreth was struggling to free himself.  "__Come on!  Come on!"_

The Dark Lord's arm hung limply from the cavity in the orb for a moment, clearly weakened from casting spell after spell to puncture through the enchanted wall around him, especially since the white magic redirected all of his spells back at him -- just as it had done when it struck Eric's sword.  He now raised his hand toward them, a violent icy flame engulfing it.

Eric turned desperately back to John.  "Get it back here!" he shouted, motioning toward the sheath. 

"I-I can't!" the boy insisted.  "I don't know how I did it before!  It just appeared!"

Eric stared, panic-stricken, at the Archmage's glowing fist.  He looked to his shield, several long yards away, convinced that he would never reach it in time.  "You shall _not leave here alive!" Mordreth's voice rang in his ears.  "I shall see to that!"  Eric pushed John further behind him._

The flash of light that met their eyes was not Mordreth's magic however, but the glowing white orb itself as something struck it, causing it to crack.  The backlash of the sword's condensed, spherical magic, suddenly loose, reacted with Mordreth's evil energy again, creating a terrific explosion that banished the Dark Lord from their sight.  His rumbling roar could be heard echoing in their ears, even after his form had vanished.  

Eric looked to his right.  Diana had collapsed onto all fours; spent after using all the strength she could muster to hurl her javelin at the glowing orb to crack it.  She breathed heavily as she attempted to straighten up and sit back on her haunches with Toby's help.  She waved the boy over to where her staff had fallen and he ran for it.  As she attempted to stand, she faltered, but Eric was already there, keeping her from falling flat again.  He wrapped his arms around her and, for a moment, he didn't care how awkward things were between them.  He just wanted to hold her . . . and thank God that she was alive.  

Diana raised a shaky hand and gripped his shoulder, wincing in pain.  He caught a brief whiff of ozone from the electricity that remained as an aftereffect of Mordreth's spell.  "Haven't felt this drained since Starfall," she muttered, trying to dismiss the inexorable ache that she felt both inside and out.  Her flesh still crawled and her insides felt on fire.

"Are you all right, Aunt Di?" Toby asked as he returned with her javelin.

Diana smiled grimly and reached out a quivering hand to grasp the staff.  She managed to shrink it down and tuck it into her belt.  "Let's put it this way," she murmured as she attempted a weak laugh, "You know how your grandfather likes to tell that story every Christmas about how your dad shocked himself when your Uncle Matthew dared him to stick one of the metal ornaments in the wall socket?"  Toby nodded.  "Well," she continued, "I am never, _never laughing at that story again!"  Toby grinned soberly._

"W-where did he go?" John asked as he approached the others, looking around apprehensively for Mordreth.

"Don't know," Eric responded, winded, as he hugged Diana tighter -- an action that was not lost on his young son.  "Don't care."

"One thing's for sure though," Diana added, "If he's anything like Venger was, it won't be long before he comes back.  We should make ourselves scarce."  And the Acrobat struggled against Eric to lift herself.

A not-too-distant battle cry sounded in the Cavalier's ears -- the clamor of approaching Orcs.  "No time for that," he announced as he struggled to his feet and scooped Diana up into his arms, squelching her attempt to stand on her own.  "You can be mad at me for this later," he said in response to her groan of protest.  "Right now we gotta go!"  Eric's legs were shaky themselves, but he didn't seem burdened by her weight.  _Probably just the adrenaline, he thought as he turned to John.  "Get that for me and let's move!" he called, gesturing toward his shield._

The Squire ran for his father's weapon, then raced over to search for his own.  Toby had beaten him to it and snatched up the golden disk from where it had fallen -- where Mordreth used to be.  The Fighter shook his head with a smile as he held the makeshift "puck" out to John.  "And you thought your weapon wouldn't kick butt!  I'm impressed, John," he took a moment to say.  "You did good, pal.  Really good!"

John took the medallion and slipped it back around his neck, grinning at Toby's gesture.  "This from the guy who didn't think I could do things for myself!" he said as he ran along beside the Fighter, following Eric and Diana.

"I stand corrected," Toby replied, "You must be one hell of a hockey player!" 

Eric rounded into the next hallway and skidded to a stop.  He saw shadows of approaching Orcs from around the corner in front of them.  Diana turned her attention to a narrow window to their left.  It looked like an arrow slit window, but a tad wider.  _For defending the fortress?  Not that anyone in their right mind would dream of attacking this place.  __Well, she thought with a hint of rueful amusement, __Present company an exception, naturally!  The important thing was, the window looked wide enough for a human being to squeeze through and, thankfully, too narrow for an Orc.  She gripped Eric's shoulder to get him to look at it as Toby and John appeared behind them._

"The green guys are coming at us from behind, too, Mr. Montgomery," Toby announced to Eric.

"Put me down," Diana instructed the Cavalier.  "There's a ledge out there.  If I can vault to it--"

"Not on your life!" Eric countered.

"But, Eric, I can--"

"Aunt Di!" Toby cut in as he brushed past everyone, "This is _my department!"  The Fighter uncurled his whip and snapped it once.  Then, drawing back, he sent it out the window toward the narrow outcropping that Diana had spotted.  It extended until it reached the target and grappled around it.  Toby gave it a tug to test its hold._

"Everybody grab on!" he instructed.  Each one gripped a section of the lash, Eric doing so one-handed so he could keep his other arm around Diana's waist.  The Acrobat managed to hold on as well, with trembling fingers, and all of them, one by one, mounted the windowsill and swung out into the open air, tightly gripping Toby's whip.  The Fighter went last, holding the whip by its handle so as to control their descent, and the four dangled loosely in the howling wind that snaked through the turrets of Mordreth's castle.  

Toby spotted the Orcs as they appeared in the window, spears raised.  "Going down," he announced as the whip began lowering them to the ground, the wind blowing them in a circling spiral as they descended.  When all had touched down on terra firma, Toby flicked his wrist up, loosening the whip from where it had grappled around the ledge, and pulling it back to him as it shrank back down to its natural length.  It wreathed itself and the Fighter reattached it to his hip.  "Ground floor, ladies and gentlemen," he proclaimed.  "Let's move out!"

Eric lifted Diana up again, much to her annoyance.  "I am seriously going to kill you, Cavalier," she droned.

"Just until we get far enough away," he returned, glancing back at the window above in case the Orcs were still determined to take aim at them with those spears.

"Where are we going, Dad?" John asked as he jogged alongside his father, holding the Cavalier's shield reverently. 

"Back to where we came from," Eric replied.  "Back to Tardos Keep.  I only hope that's where the others are headed, too."

*          *          *

Presto eased along the wall with Varla beside him.  The fact that they hadn't run into any Orc soldiers so far was both good and bad news.  Good -- because it left them able to return to the courtyards undetected; Bad -- because the yard was probably were all the Orcs were, gathered there to witness Bane's ceremony; Even worse -- there was a possibility that it was already past noon and that they were too late.  Presto felt it best not to mention the latter to his daughter.

"Do you really think we might be too late, Presto?" Varla asked worriedly.

The Magician shook his head with a heavy sigh.  Holding back information from this girl was going to be like trying to keep a secret from the town gossip.  "I don't know, Varla," he answered honestly, "But we're gonna do our best."

As the two drew nearer to the archway that emptied out into the courtyard, they slowed and cautioned their pace.  Presto kept one arm tightly wrapped around his ribs and waved Varla behind him with the other before bringing it up to rebalance his broken glasses as he stopped and peeked around the corner.

He managed a brief sigh of partial relief.  Uni was there, still tethered, still struggling, but most importantly, still Uni.  Her feet were wearily sumping through the sludgy remains of the Dragonbane.  They weren't too late, but the unicorn was in position and the time left could be anywhere from a matter of minutes to a matter of seconds.  They had to do something now.

The Magician cursed the fact that he didn't have his hat.  "Well," he muttered, "Guess we'll just have to do this the old fashioned way.  Use our brains!"

"At least we're one up on them in that department," Varla quipped.

Presto smiled soberly and began to formulate a plan.  He managed to spot Bane among the Orcs and noticed that the Dark Lord of the Plague had the magic hat draped over his belt.  If there was a way to get to it . . . .

"Varla," he said, "Do you think you can create a diversion long enough for me to get out there?"

The girl poked her head around the corner in the direction that Presto was pointing and blanched at the sight.  Countless Orcs filled the courtyard, not to mention Bane himself at the front.  "No way!" she breathed.  "I can't do that!"

"Varla, listen to me," Presto urged, "I think I have an idea, but I still need to get my hat back.  If you can keep them distracted from here, I'll be able to go out there and help Uni."

"B-but I want to go with you!" Varla stammered.

"This is more important, Varla," Presto insisted.  "If you can do something to draw their focus, I think we might just have a shot."

"Okay," the Mystic surrendered reluctantly and backed farther into the darkened hallway; far enough that she could still see Bane and the hat without being spotted herself.  Once she was tucked away in the shadows, Presto eased around the corner and into the courtyard, thankful that the Orcs were paying more attention to their master than to anything else.  "Be careful, Daddy," Varla whispered after him.

The Magician ducked behind the remains of a fountain, keeping his eyes on Bane as the Dark Lord's hands began to glow and formulate the evil energy to infect Uni.  The unicorn thrashed weakly.  Presto eyed the hat at Bane's waist, and waited.  _Come on, Varla, he thought.  __If you're gonna do this do it fast!_

Presto shifted his weight as he crouched in his hiding place, momentarily forgetting about his battered ribs.  They reminded him quite emphatically of their presence and the Magician did his best to suppress a startled grunt of pain -- not successfully enough.  

The two nearest Orcs turned at the sound and Presto froze, mentally willing them not to move; to ignore him instead.  Their Orcish sense of mindless duty and suspicion won out and they began to advance on the fountain to inspect the noise.  Presto gulped and shrank down as far as his aching body would allow.  He risked a look back to Bane and the hat.  _Come on, Varla, do your thing! he thought, __`Cause I think I'm about to have company!_

*          *          *

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Author's Notes:**  I suppose the Cavalier had to get a sword at some point!  (Now that he's old enough not to impale himself with it!  *G*)  I thought it would be an interesting touch, but it is certainly not intended to make Eric into a one-man fighting machine.  (God, no!)  The Cavalier has a bit of hero in him but he's definitely not He-Man!  I had wanted to make a concrete representation of that courageous part of him that emerges when needed most.  And, of course, he does need to depend on someone else to make it work.  (When it decides it _wants_ to work, that is!)

**On Another Note:**  Kudos to Fanfiction.Net for overcoming the difficulty plaguing their site a few weeks ago!  It's great to see the place up and running smoothly again.  This author certainly thanks you for all that you do!  Here's to continuous success!

To be continued! . . . 


	11. Tardos Keep

**Disclaimer:  **Since its development in 1983, the animated series _Dungeons and Dragons_ has belonged to the following at some point:  Marvel Productions, TSR, Inc., Wizards of the Coast,  Saban Entertainment, (according to rumor) Disney, and possibly even others.  I guess my point is, it does not (nor has it ever) belonged to me.  Oh, well!  This story, however, does!  I hope you enjoy it!

**Rating:  ****PG_-_13 for some language and violent elements**

**Points of Interest:**  Happy un-Birthday to _Legacy_!  As of September 2002, I've been posting this story for one year!  Hooray!  ("Un-birthday," though, since I've been writing it for _much_ longer than that!)  In recognition, I'd like to say a heartfelt thanks again to anyone and everyone who's helped me at some point in this undertaking – "EQ," Heidi, Alavahr, Kimmy, Tarvok, Chance, John W., and everyone who has taken time out of their real-life schedules to offer up a little feedback (whether on this site or by emailing me personally).  You are all wonderful, and I thank you!

Hope this latest chapter continues to please!  Ahead, find more battles, levitation, pick-pocketing, returning evil forces, disappearing acts, and, of course, some lovely "gushy stuff!"  (Though if, like me, you're patiently waiting for a little Eric/Diana action, that "ship" is still temporarily docked.  We'll be setting sail _very_ shortly, though!  So please help yourself to some complimentary pastries, a beverage, and a bit of B/T while you wait! *wink*)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ LEGACY   
Chapter 11 – Tardos Keep 

Nervous sweat caused his broken glasses to slide down the bridge of his nose, but Presto made no move to fix them.  He didn't want to budge.  He had pressed himself as far into the corner between the fountain and the floor as he could and stared up over the top of his drooping spectacles at the huge green blurs above him.  His chest ached from fitting himself against the crumbled marble fountain in a position that put painful pressure on his injuries.  But at least the shallow breaths that he was forced to take didn't add to the throes in his ribcage.  He tried to swallow down what felt like a lump of cotton in his mouth and continued to stare at the Orc shapes that hovered over him.  Dumb or not, it would only be a matter of moments before the lumbering brutes looked down.  And that would be that.

_Come on, Varla, the Magician's mind pleaded, __It's now or never!_

When he could no longer stand the sliding glasses, and his inability to see, Presto's will broke and he reached up cautiously to adjust them.  As the world came back into focus, so did the faces of the Orcs as they stared straight down at him.  Presto's newfound clarity was accompanied by pigish snorts from the creatures above.  "D-don't mind me, fellas," he stammered.  "I don't suppose I could convince you that I'm just looking for a good place to watch the festivities." 

One of the Orcs brought his spear down to Presto's nose.  "Guess not," the Magician chuckled nervously.  The spear pressed closer, prompting Presto to rise shakily to his feet, still gripping his side.  _Come on, Dr. Presto! he thought to himself.  __You've got an MD!  What do they have?  The answer came in the form of sharpened metal settling an inch below his throat.  __They have brute strength and Ginsu knives on long sticks!  Presto answered his own question with a gulp.  __Guess that answers that!_

He glanced around, only with his eyes, to see if Varla had been captured as well.  Not catching sight of her, he figured that she must be having trouble with her magic.  He certainly understood how that felt.  But if the magic was out of commission for the time being, Presto had no choice but to use his head to get out of this.  Bane hadn't noticed him as yet and was still focusing on Uni.  The four suns of the Realm had nearly filled the window above her.  If the Magician was going to make a move, now was the time!

Presto drew a sharp breath of surprise and pointed past the Orcs toward the unicorn.  "Oh, no!  You're missing it!" he hissed.  The two green guards turned, so as not to miss their Master's ceremony, and Presto made a break for it -- too slow.  His bruised ribs slowed him down considerably and he was unable to maneuver past the Orcs before they turned to face him again.  He stared up into their beady eyes and they snarled.  _I'm in trouble, Presto droned inwardly._

Just then, the Orcs' eyes suddenly vanished and Presto was taken aback as the two beasts began wrestling with their helmets, which had somehow slammed down to cover their faces.  The Magician was forced to take a step back as the blinded Orcs dropped their spears and struggled to raise the metal shieldings away from their eyes.  When Presto finally regained his presence of mind, he heard a voice in his head.  "_Run, Presto!  Go!"_

It was Varla.

Presto didn't pause to think about whether it would hurt or not.  Nor did he waste time running around the struggling Orcs.  He clambered over the fountain in an attempt to run between them.  He suddenly felt himself being lifted awkwardly up, every stumbling stride that he made falling on an invisible step to some invisible stairway, and he realized that his daughter was at it again.  As he passed the two Orcs, he gained some height and leverage by placing a hand on each of their helmets, sending them face-first into the sludge in the fountain and pushing himself higher into the air, out of reach of the other Orcs who began grabbing for him.  Bane turned his head to face the hovering Magician.  _Like it or not, Presto thought, __Here comes the direct approach!  And he made sprinting strides through the air toward Uni._

Bane turned fully from his task, his scaled hand aglow, and Presto halted in midair.  "Wizard!" Bane hissed through his serpent's teeth, "You are proving to be a greater nuisance than I had thought."  With that, he swiped his taloned hand through the air, sending a boomerang of energy toward Presto.  The Orcs reaching for him scrambled  away from the blast and Presto wailed as Varla's spell clumsily dropped him lower, just out of range of Bane's magic.  Another followed in rapid succession and the Magician leapt forward to get out of its way.  He grunted in pain as he fell flat.  Although he had struck nothing but the air below him, Varla's levitation spell made it feel just as solid as any surface.  Presto was a few moments in lifting himself.

It was long enough for the Lord of the Plague to realize something -- the Magician was still without his hat.  "You are too late, Wizard," Bane taunted Presto as he struggled to get up.  "In a matter of moments the unicorn shall join those parts of the Realm that have already succumbed to my pestilence.  I shall have my dark steed, and her power shall be mine to control . . . as is yours already."  He nodded toward the hat at his belt.  A corner of Presto's jaw began to throb as he clenched it, staring the creature down.

"You shall fail, Wizard.  For, as you can see, you have nothing with which to stop me."  Bane's fangs bore themselves as he sneered wickedly.  "Your magic is weak.  And what little you do have . . . mere illusion."  And he swiped his hand through the air again, sending a bolt careening toward Presto.  Varla shot him up like a rocket, her undisciplined magic propelling him just out of the spell's reach as fast as she could and stopping him just as quickly.  Presto could feel the radiant whoosh of Bane's blast as it passed just beneath his hovering form.  It wasn't until the bolt failed to disintegrate, as the last ones had, that Presto realized that Bane had not been aiming for him.

He spun his face around to see the stream of magic head straight for the archway where his daughter was hiding.  He had no time to cry out to her before the bolt struck.  A violent explosion and a scream met Presto's ears and he felt Varla's spell die as he plummeted to the floor, striking it with an agonizing jolt.

_Varla?  Presto tried to get her to answer him; tried to reach her with his thoughts.  __Varla?  She had heard nearly everything he had been thinking before.  Oh, God, where was she now?  He clawed at the ground below him as he fought painfully to raise himself.  __Varla?  The Magician managed to turn his head in the direction from which he had come, seeing nothing but a sea of snickering Orcs and what was left of the decimated archway.  "__VARLA!" he screamed.  His thoughts were no longer enough._

"Do not despair, Wizard," he could hear Bane's voice hiss coldly, "You will not be long in joining her.  But not before you witness the beginning of the end -- of this Realm and, soon, the entire cosmos!"  Presto touched the colorful scarf that was wrapped around his upper arm and winced in anguish at the thought of his daughter as he turned his trembling head back to the Dark Lord, who was invoking the power of the noon suns.  "Behold!  The time has come!"  

Uni shrieked in panic.

"You _monster!"  Presto was up in a flash, much to the shock of the surrounding Orcs, who must have thought him down for the count or they may have made a move to stop him.  He sped toward his enemy, every step forcing an aching grunt from deep within his chest, although his conscious mind no longer registered the pain.  And with his last bit of adrenaline, he dove at Bane._

The Dark Lord reached out effortlessly and caught the Magician just above his sternum, his other arm not deviating from its task as it formulated the corrosive magic needed to infect Uni.  Presto's hands reached fruitlessly for his enemy as Bane twisted his talons into the collar of the Magician's robes and held him out at arm's length.  "Again, your foolish emotions have gotten the better of you," he hissed.

After a second, the Lord of the Plague drew his arm toward him, yanking Presto with it, so that he might lower his dragon-like face close to the Magician's.  "It is a great fool who does not know when he is defeated, Wizard.  But if it is greater suffering that you wish, you shall have it."  With a mighty shove up and out, Bane hurled Presto backward, where he came to rest in the sludgy Dragonbane at Uni's feet.  He slumped against her legs and the unicorn nudged him weakly, sorrowfully.

Bane raised both hands to them as the noon suns streamed through the opening above, lighting the circumference all around them.  Under the power of the Dark Lord's spell, the light hitting that circle of ground changed to a grisly shadow and the plant life below writhed grotesquely.  "You shall join this beast in tasting the poison that shall soon infect the entire Realm!" Bane snarled.

"I don't think so," a voice murmured weakly from ahead of him.  Bane glared amusedly at the downed Magician, who was stirring feebly, squinting in the bright sun that shone down on him from overhead.

"And just how, my pitiful enemy, do you plan to stop me?"  The Dark Lord flashed a sinister triumphant grin.

Presto returned with an insolent sneer of his own.  "Magic!" he spat as he lifted his hat for the evil one to see.  Bane's eyes widened as he turned his attention to his belt, where the magic hat used to be, extracted from his possession by a mere slight-of-hand -- mere Earth magic.  In its place, draped over the belt, was, instead, a brightly-colored scarf.  Varla's.

Presto's fingers twitched furiously over the mouth of his hat, his lips moving in an inaudible incantation.  He closed his eyes and reached into the cone-shaped weapon, pulling out . . . a vanity mirror.  One that looked as though it had been broken right off of the piece of furniture to which it had once been attached.  Presto stared at it and Uni whimpered defeatedly.

Bane snarled.  "Is that the best you can do, Wizard?" he asked, his voice dripping with mockery.  "Your pathetic manifestations are as useless as the magic that conjures them!"

"Oh, really?" Presto grinned.  "How about a closer look, Bane?"  And he thrust the mirror skyward, reflecting the powerful light of the noon suns toward the Dark Lord of the Plague.

The beams of light engulfed him and Bane shrieked like a dying serpent as the pure energy of the Realm's suns bore down upon him.  The same energy that infused the earth at this very spot to create the Dragonbane now served as the Magician's weapon as it surrounded the Master of the Plague, a half-dragon himself, with its uncorrupted power.  As the poisonous shadow beneath Presto and Uni faded, the sunlight swallowed Bane completely and he faded away into a howling vapor, briefly reshaping himself long enough to threaten his revenge, then dissipating into the hazy air of the lower Keep.  

The Mystic's colorful scarf fluttered to the ground on the spot where the Dark Lord had once stood.

Presto dropped the mirror from his trembling fingers and slouched against Uni's legs.  The unicorn felt herself getting stronger immediately, as Bane's poisoned sinews melted away from her and the sunlight seemed to replenish her energy.  She leaned down and nuzzled Presto with a velvet snout, but the Magician couldn't budge, save to mutter a single word, "Varla."

In the next instant, there she was.  Presto glanced around as he and Uni suddenly found themselves back at the archway where the Magician had left his daughter.  Uni must have teleported them there.  Although Presto's worst fear was that the girl was trapped on the other side of the collapsed rock or, God forbid, underneath it, her present state didn't look much better.  

Varla lay in a crumpled heap.  Whether she had been blown out of the doorway or dove out to avoid the brunt of the blast, she was now unconscious, having struck her head on the fountain behind which Presto had been hiding earlier.  The Magician used what felt like the last of his strength to crawl to her and pull her into his arms, urging her to open her eyes.  "Come on, Baby.  Come on, we won.  Come--"

Presto's coaxing was cut off by a nicker of warning from above him.  Uni alerted him to their, still, very dire situation.  Bane may have disappeared, but his army of Orc soldiers was still present, accounted for, and advancing on them with weapons raised.

The Magician hugged his daughter tighter and struggled to get to his feet.  His battered ribs forced him down and Presto lost his breath for a moment, realizing that he must have damaged them further during his scuffle with Bane.  His power to move was gone.  

"Daddy?" a soft voice came from below.  Presto looked down into his daughters now-open, but bleary, eyes.  Varla's line of vision shifted erratically, and she found it difficult to focus on anything.  The stunned girl was able to make out her father's face and Uni's form above him.  Everything else was an indistinguishable blur accompanied by the frightening roar of approaching Orcs.  Varla refocused her gaze on Presto, her eyes wide with fear.  "Daddy?" 

Presto buried the relief that he felt at his daughter's awakening and forced his attention back on the Orcs.  "Uni?" he choked out, "Can you teleport again right away?"  The unicorn answered with a negative rattle in her throat.  Although she was stronger, no unicorn had ever been able to teleport twice in one day.

Presto watched the approaching Orcs and tried to reach for his hat.  He suddenly caught sight of a raised spear about to be released, abandoned his attempt to reach the hat, and  squeezed his eyes shut, draping himself as far as he could over his daughter.  Presto could hear nothing but the nearing sounds of snarling beasts.

Then nothing at all.

Suddenly everything was quiet.  The snorting was gone, the clanging of weapons vanished, and the spear never struck him.  Presto opened his tight eyelids to the sound of a grand and triumphant whinny from Uni behind him.  As he looked up, the sight that met his eyes matched the one that had met his ears -- barrenness.

The Orcs were gone, the courtyard inside Tardos Keep was deserted . . . save for a lone figure standing in the center directly across from Presto.  The Magician managed to slide his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and stared at the man who had banished the Orcs.

"Venger."

*          *          *

Bobby O'Brien brought his cupped hand to his lips and drank.  Even after so long, he hadn't realized just how thirsty he had been.  It wasn't the foremost thing on his mind when he and the others left the Citadel of War; and even throughout the long trek to reach Alicorn River, his own fundamental needs were pushed to the back of his thoughts.  However, now that they were here, the Barbarian couldn't ignore the tight, tugging sensation that ran from his throat to his stomach as it pleaded for water, and he immediately headed to the river for a drink.

As he wiped the droplets running down his chin, Bobby raised his eyes and looked across the Alicorn.  The edge of the Wondrous Wood was still a ways ahead of them, and even after that, it was still many miles through the distant Dustlands before they reached Tardos Keep again.  Even though he and the others had been walking for what felt like many hours now, their destination was still many more hours away; many more hours before he would know if Uni was safe.  The Barbarian brought his hand down and swatted at the water, sending angry ripples colliding with the downstream current.  

"We'll get there," said a gentle voice from beside him.  Teri eased down onto the bank next to Bobby, draping her arm over his shoulders.  

Bobby reached across his chest and gripped her hand tightly.  "Then we need to get moving," he replied as he started to pull himself up.  His efforts were met by a firm resistance from the arm across his upper back.  He glanced in Teri's direction.

"You need a break.  Hank and the others are finding something for us all to eat, first," she informed him, to which he began to shake his head.  "How can you expect to rescue Uni if you don't have the energy to lift that club of yours?" she added good-naturedly.  Bobby grinned; a sober grin.

"As long as we're waiting," the Dreamer began again, "I did want to tell you something, Bobby."

Bobby chuckled knowingly.  "I know exactly what you're going to say, Ter," he told her, "I know I made a promise to you the other day when I told you that I wouldn't be going anywhere.  Believe me, I'm eating my words right now and I know you were ri--"

"That's not it, Bobby," Teri quietly interrupted as she let her arm drop from across his shoulders.  The Barbarian turned completely to her, looking his girlfriend fully in her eyes; eyes that were brimming with tears.  "I never wanted to be right," she said, trying to control the quiver in her voice.  "Do you think I didn't stay up for the rest of that night praying that I wasn't?  This is not an 'I-Told-You-So,' Bobby.  In fact, it's the farthest thing from it.  This . . . this is an 'I'm Sorry.'"  She turned her face away from him and closed her eyes.  "I'm _so sorry, Bobby."_

"Hey," the Barbarian said gently as he reached for her hands, "You don't have anything to be sorry about.  It was my carelessness that got my sorry butt transported here!  I was the one who told you to ignore the dream, remember?"  He tried to get her to smile, but his attempt at cheerfulness was lost on the Dreamer at that moment.

"You don't understand," she insisted, lowering her voice to almost a whisper, "I couldn't do anything!  Nothing!  I have this power -- this thing that I don't understand.  I get these dreams that show me glimpses of the future, or shadows of a possible future, and they're supposed to help me in some way.  But . . . ."  Her voice trailed away as she breathed in deeply to stifle a sob.  ". . . I couldn't use them to help you."

Bobby sighed and squeezed her hands tightly, looking down at them.  "Teri . . . ."

"I saw everything, Bobby," she continued, "Everything that happened to you.  I saw the vision that told me that you would be coming here to the Realm -- and I couldn't do anything to stop it.  I saw you and the children journeying toward Tardos Keep -- and I didn't get there in time; couldn't get you to hear me.  And when you were attacked at the Keep . . . I -- I saw what happened to you.  I had never been so scared in my entire life -- and I still couldn't help you.  These dreams are _supposed to help, but all they did was foreshadow horrible things that I wouldn't be able to prevent.  Do you have any idea what that's like?  And all I've been able to think about is if I were any good at this, if I had any kind of control over my ability, I might have been able to use it better.  We might have reached you before . . . oh, God, Bobby, if you had __died . . . just because I . . . ."  Teri broke into uncontrollable weeping as she finally allowed herself to imagine what had almost happened.  "I'm so sorry, Bobby!  So sorry!"_

Bobby had been listening to her without a word.  He knew nothing he could say would erase the torment in her heart that had been building over these last few days.  But he also knew that she was wrong about something.  "Teri," he said softly, "You're right.  I can't even begin to understand what you've been going through all this time, and I'm sorry for that.  But I want you to understand one thing."  He turned her face to his so that she would look at him.  "I want you to hear this because it is _very important:  __You Did Help Me."_

Teri blinked back some of her tears and gazed at him.  He was looking at her determinedly.  He wanted to make her understand; really understand.

"I don't know how much Venger explained to you -- about Kadysse -- because he sure didn't tell us a whole heck of a lot," Bobby began.

Teri shook her head.  "Most of what we learned was from what Uni told Varla."

Bobby lowered his eyes.  "I really can't explain it myself, except to say I got _really messed up.  There was nothing I could do to keep her out of my head.  She kept insisting that I join up with her, fight for her, God, you name it!  And I'll admit, she was breaking me down."_

Teri fidgeted uncomfortably, clearly bothered by what another woman had tried to do to him.  "Bobby, why are you telling me this?"

"I thought you should know."

The Dreamer shifted again on the bank.  "But you managed to beat her," she shrugged, trying to drop the subject.  "You didn't let her control you."

Bobby raised his eyes once again, locking them on Teri's with resolute seriousness before continuing to speak.  "No," he said, "That's where you're wrong.  She had me, Teri.  She was in my head and I couldn't get her out.  There was a very thin line there, and _nothing was going to prevent me from crossing it.  Not my friends, not Ayesha or the other kids I was trying to protect, not even my sister, and __certainly not myself."  He paused to brush a tear away from her cheek; keeping his hand there and focusing on her intently.  "The one thing -- the __only thing -- that kept me from crossing over that line . . . was you."_

Teri whimpered with renewed tears and tried to look away.  Bobby kept his hand steady, however, and managed to keep her eyes on him.  "You think that you weren't there for me, but you were," he said.  "You think that you didn't help me, but you did.  You were there, Teri.  You were the only one who was there.  You saved my sanity -- and you saved my life.  Twice."

Teri brought her hand up to the heart-shaped pendant at her throat and it glowed softly in the afternoon sun.  For a moment she was speechless.  Her tears hadn't stopped, but they were no longer bitter tears of regret.  She then rose up onto her knees and wrapped her arms around Bobby's neck.  He reciprocated by folding his arms around her as well and just held her with all his might.  The Dreamer squeezed tighter, finally able to enjoy just being in his arms and knowing that he was safe.  "I love you so much, Bobby the Barbarian," she whispered into his ear.  "I can never lose you like that again."

"You won't," he whispered back, "That I _can promise!"_

Teri lifted her head from where she had buried it in the nape of his neck and tilted it forward until their lips touched.  She felt Bobby's arms tighten around her and, for a moment, all was forgotten.  The Realm, the terrifying dreams, the new force of evil, even the question of getting home, everything faded, for the moment, into the sweet oblivion of a kiss.

Bobby pulled away at the sound of an indiscreet giggle to their right.  He raised an accusing eyebrow at Ayesha, who bit her lip apologetically, but couldn't erase the wide smile from her face.  "Mom sent me to get you," she announced.  "Daddy said we should eat quickly and then leave so we can reach Tardos before dark."  The young Paladin felt as though she should say something more, but couldn't get any words out, aside from reciting what the Ranger had told her.  She did, however, continue to smile at her uncle.

Remembering how eager he was to get back to the Keep, the Barbarian agreed.  He untangled himself from Teri and rose to his feet, picking up his club.  "Coming?" he smiled down at the Dreamer.

Teri nodded.  "I just want to get a quick drink," she said to him, definitely in higher spirits.  "You weren't the only one who was parched!"  Teri leaned forward to dip her hands into the gently flowing river.  

She froze at the sight of a large shadow looming upon the water, which materialized into an obscure reflection of green and red.  The Dreamer emitted a surprised cry and floundered away from the riverbank into the back of Bobby's legs.  The Barbarian turned to see an enormous Orc captain snarling at them from the other side of the river.  As he began to trudge through the water, he was joined by several more who emerged from the trees around him, and then still more who appeared from the forest surrounding Bobby and the others on their side of the river as well.  

Ayesha's sword blazed forth as she backed closer to Bobby.  "How come we didn't see them, Uncle Bobby?" she cried as the Orcs drew nearer.

The Barbarian raised his club with a growl and hoisted Teri to her feet, positioning her protectively behind him.  He regarded the Orc soldiers that were closing in around them.  "Kadysse," he spat in a low voice.

Bobby took a swing at the Orcs in front of him as Teri's scream alerted him to more soldiers advancing upon them from behind.  The Barbarian turned his head at the sound of a surging hum as an arrow of light sped in the direction of the new attackers, sending them floundering back and into the banks of the Alicorn River.  The Ranger emerged from beyond the trees and nocked another arrow, leveling it at the Orc aggressors. 

"Where did they come from?" shouted Sheila's bodiless voice as she tossed back her hood and reappeared beside her husband.  

Instead of answering, the Ranger shifted his aim and fired another shot past her, binding an Orc that had made a grab for Sheila.

"Uncle Bobby, behind you!" Ayesha cried as she discharged her weapon in the direction of the Orcs who were scrambling to get out of the river and attack Bobby and Teri again.  She swept one up with the golden energy from her sword and tacked him to the ground on the other side of the water.  The Barbarian, in turn, spun around and struck the water with his club, creating a wave with the power to wash the remaining Orcs downstream.

"Get across!" he called to the Paladin, ushering her in the direction of the river.

"But I--" the girl started.

"Go!" Hank echoed, "We'll be right behind you!"

Ayesha struggled to comply, wading into the water until it was nearly waist deep.  She hadn't realized how difficult and slow it would be to try to move through water in chain mail.  Careful to hold her sword hilt above water, she shot a glance back at the rest of her family as she neared the middle of the river.  "Uncle Bobby!" she called.

Bobby was helping Hank to deal with the remainder of the Orcs, and didn't turn at the sound of his niece's voice.

"UNCLE BOBBY!  DADDY!"

At Ayesha's panicked cries all four turned around.  The girl was standing in the center of the Alicorn River, a silvery light covering every inch of her body that was visible above the water.  "What's _happening?" she cried as she looked at her hands; hands that were becoming transparent as the Paladin started to vanish from sight._

"Ayesha!" Hank shouted as he made a dash for the river with Sheila right behind him.  The faint Paladin was little more than a wisp when they reached the bank.  As Hank stepped into the water, his attention was again diverted by his wife's frightened voice.

"Hank!" she breathed, and he turned his head to Sheila.  The Thief was surrounded by the same argentine light, and fading away just as rapidly as had Ayesha, even without the power of her cape.  

"Sheila!"  Hank spun on his heel and grabbed for his wife's wrist.  His desperate fingers passed right through it.  The Thief's eyes were panic-wide as she looked from Hank's face to the hand that had tried to clutch her wrist;  a hand that was now also glowing with the silvery light.  The moment the Ranger had made contact with her, the light lent itself to him as well, shooting up his arm and enveloping his entire body in a matter of seconds.  The Ranger froze and looked at himself, then shifted his gazed from his wife, who was disappearing, to his daughter, who was already gone.

"No!" Bobby cried as he broke away from Teri and began running toward them.  The Dreamer quickly followed.  Hank raised his arms in a desperate gesture to keep them away as he and Sheila vanished from sight.  "No!" Bobby cried again as he reached the spot where they had been standing.

"Bobby!" Teri shuddered as the shrill sound of a horse's whinny could be heard overhead.  The Dreamer raised her eyes to see a demonic steed ridden by a dark figure in gleaming black armor.  Something about this imposing figure seemed familiar to her.  

"Kadysse!" the Barbarian growled hatefully.  He stepped around Teri and held his weapon aloft.

The Mistress of War, clearly regenerated, raised a glowing hand to the pair on the ground.  She didn't say a word as she released her magic toward them.  Bobby turned and clutched Teri as she cried out in terror, both of them ducking down as the energy hit.  The bolt struck the ground several short feet away and raced around them in a wide circumference like a lit fuse chasing a trail of gunpowder.  Teri and Bobby looked up at the ring of fire that now surrounded them.

The Dreamer caught sight of a distorted shadow suddenly striding through the flames, and an image flashed through her head.  The fire . . . the dark figure on horseback . . . the sights, sounds, and even the pungent smell of the flame crackling with magic . . . Teri realized that she had dreamed this scene.  That first dream.  Although not exact in every detail, as her visions seldom were, she remembered it vividly -- and grew even more afraid.

Kadysse almost seemed to sense this as she emerged through the flame in front of them and removed her armored helmet.  Her line of vision met that of the Dreamer and Teri shuddered as Kadysse's amber feline eyes seemed to burn into her; even more so than the scorching heat of the surrounding flames.  The Dark Mistress cracked a callous grin.  "So, Barbarian," she uttered predatorily to Bobby as he turned to face her again, his club raised protectively, "_This is the wretched little simp that you have chosen over me!"_

Her eyes fell again on Teri, and the Dreamer felt an intense panic well up inside of her.  She tightened her grip on Bobby's arm.  The Mistress of War then turned her gaze back to the Barbarian, her cat-like eyes igniting scathingly.  "You shall pay dearly for your treachery, boy," she hissed at him as she raised both arms, aglow with deadly energy.  "You, _and your worthless little trollop!"  _

Teri gasped.  She knew from her dream what could happen if they didn't do something.

Bobby stepped forward, away from Teri, and gripped his club tightly.  It hummed rhythmically in his hands.  The next sound he heard, was the terror-stricken voice of the Dreamer behind him.  "Bobby!" she cried.  As he turned to face her, the Barbarian could see the mysterious glow forming a halo around her as well.  He forgot Kadysse and made a grab for Teri -- not fast enough.  The Dreamer vanished from sight, a look of panic in her eyes.

Bobby spun around to face the creature before him.  "What have you done with them!" he demanded.  Kadysse granted him no reply, aside from intensifying the spell that she was formulating.  When her hands were fully ablaze, she addressed him.  "You shall pay dearly for denying me!" she repeated, almost like a promise.  And she released it toward him.

Panting in fury, the Barbarian raised his club with a battle roar as the mysterious silvery light suddenly surrounded him as well.  

. . . And everything exploded into fire.

*          *          *

"Eric!  Put me down!"

Eric let out a fatigued grunt as he shifted Diana in his arms, but didn't put her down and didn't stop running.  He shot a look back at their Orcish pursuers as John and Toby slowed cautiously to let him catch up to them; their weapons at the ready.  "You know what those Orcs will do to us if I stop?" Eric said, winded.

"That's nothing compared to what _I'm going to do to you if you don't!" the Acrobat returned with aggravation.  "Come on, Eric!" she said more urgently, "You know as well as I do that you're not going to outrun anyone this way!"_

For as much as the Cavalier wanted to argue with her, he knew that Diana did have a point at this moment.  Even if they were able to break away from the Orcs that had ambushed them without exchanging blows, they would never be able to run all the way back to Tardos Keep, which was still many hours away.  Grumbling a silent curse, Eric skidded to a halt and lowered Diana's feet to the ground as her hand went for her staff.

Toby and John backed up toward them until the four formed a cluster, glaring out at the Orcs that surrounded them.  Eric eased beside his son and reached down toward the boy's belt.  The sword hidden there remained that way -- hidden.  Eric grumbled again.  _Definitely a 'Dungeon Master Special'! he thought with rueful animosity as the blade lingered in its state of dormancy,  __Never around when you really need it!  But he didn't have the time to dwell on it.  Since it was clear that he would be purely on the defensive for this round, the Cavalier changed his tactics._

"John!" he commanded his son, "You stay next to Toby and cover him!  I've got Diana!"  The two Montgomerys shifted their positions in the group until they were side-by-side with their respective partners, ready to put offensive and defensive together.

Diana bit her lip and did her best to keep her trembling legs beneath her.  She watched as more and more Orc soldiers seemed to emerge from the rocky landscaping, and her eyes became a pair of smoldering embers.  Her lips moved as she recited the mantra of her gymnastics coach during her Olympic training:  "Remember, Diana, the body does what the mind says."  

_The body does what the mind says . . . the body does what the mind says . . . .  _

Her strength seemed to grow as she gripped her javelin tighter.  The staff grew in her hands as Eric took his place beside her.

The Orcs slowed and pressed en masse toward the huddled foursome.  John threw up a protective field to cover their rear flanks as the green aggressors surrounded them.  His panicked heart raced as he found himself nose-to-nose with a snarling snout with pointed teeth curling up from its mandible.  He gulped as the Orc captain grinned at him.

"Dad?" John whimpered, recoiling as the beast snorted at him, but still trying his best to keep the force field raised.

Eric reached back and gripped the boy's shoulder with one hand as the other arm pressed forward even harder with his shield in an attempt to strengthen the protective barrier before the ranks of Orcs began trying to batter it down to get to them.  The power of the shield could withstand nearly anything.  The mortal who controlled it, however, could only stave off so much.  He had learned this from experience; and remembered it especially from holding up Mordreth's ceiling.  There would be an eventual moment when his will to energize the shield would waver.   Diana and Toby had their weapons ready for the instant that it happened.  Eric released John's shoulder to grip his shield with both hands and focused his full attention on the aggressors in front of him.

The Orc captain who was glaring at John raised a gauntleted hand to get his troops' attention.  "Master Mordreth want their weapons," he snorted, never breaking his probing stare from the quaking youth.  "Kill them," he sneered.

A collective, thunderous snarl rose up from the army of Orcs as they pressed in toward the huddle of humans.  The force fields kept them back, but the Young Ones stood ready to fight.  "Can we move at all like this?" Toby offered as he stared down the throngs of Orcs that surrounded them.  "Maybe inch our way out of here while the shields are up."

"We can try," Diana replied as the foursome began taking small sideways steps.  As expected, the Orcs moved right along with them.

"Just a little further.  I think we're losing them!" John said in an attempt to bury his fear with sarcasm.  

"Yeah, we can keep this up all the way to Tardos," Eric grunted, more to himself than in response to John's quip.  "As long as we can get them to agree to a time-out every few _inches!"  He winced and turned his head reflexively as an Orc club struck the "wall" very near to his face.  "What I wouldn't give for one of Presto's stupid hat tricks!" Eric muttered ruefully as the stinging sweat running into his eyes began to blur the forms of the Orcish soldiers ahead of him._

A corner of the Cavalier's peripheral vision caught a bright silvery flash, but he ignored it.  He was too focused on the reaction that the Orcs had to it.  The troop in front of him suddenly pulled back, a collective look of slight surprise on their faces.  Eric's mouth curved upward as he eyed the startled Orcs.  "I don't know what you guys just did," he said to the others with a confident chuckle as he turned his head, "But whatever it was, do it agai--"  

Eric's eyes fell upon the space behind him.  The area that was once occupied by Diana, John, and Toby was now nothing but a herd of Mordreth's soldiers.  His friends were nowhere to be seen.  He was alone.  _Wh-where'd they go?  What was more, John's protective field was no longer covering his back side._

The Orcs recovered from their initial shock and began advancing on Eric again.  Something of the old Cavalier began to reemerge as his confident chuckle gradually changed to a nervous one, to a choked gasp, and, finally, to a full-blown panicky wail as the Orcs lunged at him from all sides.  

Eric dove out of the way as an Orc pileup collected behind him.  He scrambled along the ground on his hands and knees until he saw a pair of immense booted feet appear in his path.  The Cavalier skidded to an abrupt stop and shoved himself backward, landing on his posterior and crab-walking away from the towering Orc captain.  

The creature cracked a snarling grin as he gloated down at Eric, who was suddenly frozen with fear.  He shot his head around, trying to catch a desperate glimpse of where his son and the others had gone.  But "gone" was exactly what they were.  The only thing that remained behind him was the advancing league of Orcs.  The Cavalier turned again to the brute in front of him.  The Orc captain met his eyes with a hostile snort and a widening smirk as it began raising its club high into the air.  The suns behind the Orc burned into Eric's eyes, but he couldn't turn away.  The Cavalier wailed again as the Orc drew back completely and Eric's vision suddenly met with a blinding silver flash.

*          *          *

Eric was still screaming as the raised club came back into focus.  But now his cries were matched by a thunderous battle roar from the creature in front of him.  The Cavalier squeezed his eyes shut and cowered behind his shield, waiting for the blow.  He seemed surprised for a moment when the shout above him suddenly ceased.  

"Eric?"  

The voice didn't belong to an Orc.  It was clearly human . . . even strangely and vaguely familiar.

The Cavalier peeked cautiously out from behind his weapon.  His eyes trailed up the individual before him, scrutinizing the blue-eyed, dusty blonde young man who was staring wide-eyed back at him.  Eric's jaw dropped.  "_Bobby?"_

The Barbarian still held his club aloft as he stared downward.  The shock at suddenly seeing Eric in front of him -- instead of Kadysse -- caused him to forget about his menacing posture.  

Eric reminded him as he began to rise.  "Uh, watch where you're pointing that thing, shrimp.  You could really hurt somebo—"  Eric's words stopped abruptly as he straightened to his full height, which still only brought the top of his head to a point just level with Bobby's nose.

Bobby remembered his club and lowered it, still stunned, but regained his presence of mind in time to smirk lightly as he looked down at the Cavalier.  "_Who're you callin' a 'shrimp'?" he retorted._

"Bobby!" a voice cried from behind the Barbarian.

"Dad!" came a shout, with a similar sense of relief, from beside Eric.

Both turned away from each other at the respective sound of their own names.  Bobby's eyes met Teri's just before the girl hurled herself into his arms in a grateful hug.  He glanced over her shoulder to see Sheila, Hank, and Ayesha running toward him as well.  

Eric was, likewise, tackled by his son as he noticed Diana and Toby standing nearby, taking in their new surroundings.  "What the heck just happened?" he demanded as he looked around, dumbfounded.  "Where did you guys go?"

"And how did you get here?"  Bobby added.

"How did we _all get here?" Hank questioned further._

"And where is '_here?'"  Sheila concluded as she, Hank, and Ayesha made their way over to the others.  The group of Young Ones, now larger in number, surveyed the room in which they stood.  _

Actually, although it seemed fully enclosed, with walls on every side, it appeared more like a courtyard than a room.  It was large in scale and must have been grand in appearance -- once.  The Young Ones stared at the enclosed courtyard around them.  What must have at one time been magnificent white marble buildings, columns, and archways were now graying with decay and overrun with pestilent growth.  Black murky pools ran the lengths of the stone pathways, evidence of what must have once been elegant landscaping.  It nearly broke their hearts to see the putrefaction around them.  Especially since this place looked like--

"Tardos Keep," came a thick, labored voice from nearby.  Everyone turned to see its source.  Presto stepped into view, clutching his side and looking somewhat the worse for wear.  "It's Tardos Keep."

"Oh, God, Presto," Diana muttered as she took an instinctive step toward her battered friend.  

The Magician raised his hand.  "It's nothing," he insisted.  "Just a couple scrapes."  The reflexive twinge in his voice betrayed his lie, however, and the Acrobat assertively made her way over to Presto and supported him as he eased down onto a fallen column.  When he was settled, he raised his eyes to each of his friends and the children with a relieved smile.  "Glad you guys got here in one piece," he said as lightheartedly as he could manage.

"Toby!  John!"  Ayesha jostled her way past her parents and ran arrow-straight toward her formerly lost companions.  Toby halted her charge by catching her in a grateful hug and spinning her around, fueled by the power of the girl's inertia.  When her feet came to rest on the ground again, Ayesha pulled away from the Fighter and threw her arms around John.  The boy grumbled in embarrassment, but returned her hug nevertheless.  "What happened to you?  Are you all right?" she asked both of them.

"Long story," John informed her.

"_Real long!" Toby added.  "But a word to the wise:  __Don't get this one mad!"  He shot his thumb in the Squire's direction.  "It ain't a pretty sight!  Old Bonehead found that out the hard way!"  The Fighter aggressively mussed John's hair.  "Right, Johnny Boy?"_

The Squire jerked away from Toby's hand and shot a scathing look in the older boy's direction.  "Better not forget it!" he warned the Fighter as his stinging glare melted into a cocky grin.

Ayesha glanced at both of them with a smile, anxious to hear about what had happened.  Whatever it was, it had done something to end the hostility between the two boys; or, at least, instigate a truce.  

Hank continued to look around in disbelief.  "This is Tardos?" he breathed as he slipped his arm across Sheila's shoulders.  His wife shook her head sadly.  Each of the Young Ones felt a stab of despair at the thought that the once magnificent Tardos Keep now looked . . . like this.  

"Yeah," Presto confirmed, "New, and in definite need of improvement."  He looked around again, as though seeing it fresh for the first time, before letting his head droop sadly to his chest.  "Population:  Us."  

Eric broke the tense silence with an even more important question.  "How did we _get here?"_

Bobby came to a sudden realization, himself.  "Yeah," he stated as stepped away from Teri, but never let go of her hand.  "One minute I'm staring down Kadysse, and the next I'm nearly braining Eric!"  He turned in place to regard Hank, Sheila, and Ayesha, before finally settling his eyes on Teri.  "I thought _she had done something to you!"_

"So what the heck happened?" Eric repeated his earlier question.

"_Ahem!"  Everyone turned as Presto cleared his throat.  _

Diana's eyes widened as she stared at him from her seated position.  "Presto," she breathed, her lips curling into a surprised smile, "_You did this?  You managed to transport us here?"_

The Magician shrugged.  "Well," he admitted a bit sheepishly, "I did have a little help."  And he turned to the darkness behind him.

A figure emerged from the shadow; a towering individual with a regal appearance.  Beside him strode a magnificent white animal; a creature from legend with a horn of pearly ivory spiraling from the center of her head.  She tossed her orange mane in greeting to the Young Ones.  The stately figure at her side regarded the ten individuals who assembled before him.

"It pleases me to see you again, my Young Ones," Venger announced with a light smile. 

*          *          *

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Author's Notes:**  Though I'm sure the majority knows this, I thought I'd mention that Ginsu ® are those knives and cutlery sets that were advertised quite a bit on infomercials.  Presumably, they can cut through tin cans and never need sharpening.  (Hmm.  The Orcs must have been visiting "AsSeenOnTV.com!")

To be continued . . . !


	12. Still Waters

**Disclaimer:  **Since its development in 1983, the animated series _Dungeons and Dragons_ has belonged to the following at some point:  Marvel Productions, TSR, Inc., Wizards of the Coast,  Saban Entertainment, (according to rumor) Disney, and possibly even others.  I guess my point is, it does not (nor has it ever) belonged to me.  Oh, well!  This story, however, does!  I hope you enjoy it!

**Rating:  ****PG_-_13 for some language and violent elements**

**Author's Forward:**  Dedicated once more to my beautiful beta readers!  Especially Heidi – a fine author herself, who offered heaps of encouragement and whose website I will miss!  And EQ – who insisted on reading this _again_ and wouldn't let me post until we were all satisfied!  Thanks!

Within, find a bit of a reprieve from all the running around.  Friends are reunited, feelings are confronted, a "gushy" scene that I know some of you have been waiting for, a healthy dose of angst, and Venger gets some of the spotlight!  Also, although I pride myself on attempting to come up with original one-liners in my stories, every so often I can't resist throwing in a clever line that I've picked up somewhere else.  Bonus kudos to anyone who can spot my pop-culture references!  *VBG*

**Spoilers:**  Since there's a lot of dialogue in this chapter, there are more references made to the actual D&D series than has been done previously.  Direct references are made to Michael Reaves' "Requiem" script, the episodes: _Valley of the Unicorns_, _Treasure of Tardos_, _Day of the Dungeon Master_, _Garden of Zinn_, _Beauty and the Bogbeast_, _Child of the Stargazer_, and _Dungeon at the Heart of Dawn_, as well as a subtle reference to one my own previous stories, "Advent."

Hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LEGACY 

**_Chapter 12 -- Still Waters_**

"Oh, my . . . goodness!" Sheila breathed as she gazed at Uni.  The unicorn was even more beautiful and elegant than she could have imagined; even more breathtaking than the ones they had seen in the hidden Valley all those years ago.  The memory of the awkward filly and the sight of this exquisite and graceful replacement brought tears to the Thief's eyes.  She smiled brightly in spite of their grim surroundings.

Eric, likewise, had difficulty believing what he saw.  He let out his incredulity in a forced puff of air as he stared at the unicorn.

"Not so 'runty' anymore, is she, Cavalier?" Diana whispered from her seated position beside Presto.  Eric dumbly shook his head, his mouth agape.  He glanced toward his son and tried to erase some of the shock from his face.

"S-she, uh, used to be a little . . . smaller," he stated casually as he regained his composure.  He then turned back to the unicorn with a disbelieving grin; a smile that faded a bit as he shifted his gaze to Venger.  "Would it be wishful thinking to ask if we could go home now?" he asked the former Dark Lord.

Venger didn't answer that, leaving the Young Ones wondering if that were a good omen or a bad one.  "You have bought us some time, my friends," he simply said.  Sensing their apprehension, he added, "The knowledge you desire is best attainted through patience."

Eric groaned.  "Well, if _that wasn't the same stupid thing the old DM would've said . . . !" _

Venger turned a patient eye toward the Cavalier.  "Rest, my friends," was all he said in reply. 

Eric grumbled some sarcastic rebuttal under his breath, prompting an irritated look from Diana.  "Patience, Cavalier," she intoned in a whisper.  "How about setting a good example!"  Eric followed her line of vision to the nearby group of children, then back to the Acrobat with a conceding roll of his eyes.

As the Young Ones continued to take in their surroundings, the new Dungeon Master turned abruptly from the group as though he had heard something.  His eyes focused on nothing in particular, but his head cocked to the side as though listening intently.  After a few brief moments, he straightened and gave Uni a nod, his expression dark and strange.  She whinnied a soft response.  None of the Young Ones seemed to notice this exchange.

Presto started to raise himself up from the column where he was sitting.  "Whoa!  Where do you think you're going?" Diana demanded as she tried to keep him down.

"To check on Varla," he answered, a slight twinge of pain detectable in his voice.  "She kinda had a nasty run-in with some falling marble, but she'll be okay."

"Which is more than I can say for you, judging by the way you look!" the Acrobat countered.

"Diana's right, pal," Hank affirmed.  "You need to get yourself fixed up.  One of us'll check on Varla."

"I'll do it!" Ayesha interjected, jumping at the opportunity to see the friend who had had her so worried.  "Where is she?"

Presto's eyes traveled over his friends above him.  It seemed there was no getting out of this one.  He finally yielded with a deep sigh.  "She's in the next chamber."  He pointed to an area behind him.  "That way."  Ayesha smiled excitedly and dashed into the next room, followed closely by Toby and John.  Presto finally turned back to Diana.  "Okay, Madame," he sighed again, "Do your thing."

Eric smirked down at the Magician as Diana looked for something to set what she guessed (judging by the way Presto had been carrying himself) were several broken ribs.  After a moment, he turned back to face Venger.  "By the way, . . . uh, . . . _DM, . . . what exactly is it that we're waiting--?"  Eric stopped short at the sight of what was behind him:  Uni the Unicorn . . . and nothing else.  Venger was nowhere in sight.  _

"Hey!" the Cavalier exclaimed to anyone within earshot, "He's _gone!!"_

*          *          *

"_Not even you can break Tardos Keep, Venger!  These walls have been strengthened by stone and spell for a thousand years!"_

He remembered these words.  Sulinara, Queen of Tardos, had uttered them in defiance years ago when it had been _he_ who had attacked the Keep.  There was a time when he would have not rested until she rued the day she had given voice to them.  

Now, however, he wished the walls were just as impenetrable as before.

"What is it that you want?" he demanded aloud of the darkness around him.

A set of cold white eyes materializing from the black was the only reply he received for the moment.  Then, a grim shape grew like a malignancy from the surrounding shade, forming a winged shadowy specter.  "You have been summoned, Venger," the phantom finally said in an inky and crafty voice.

Venger lifted his chin as he peered down at the creature -- a creature who saw fit to use the Dark Lord's old name.  "A shame that you were unable to invade these walls all those years ago, Shadow Demon," Venger replied coolly.  "You may have proven yourself a far more useful spy."

"It took someone with greater power than yours to enable me to come and go as I please," the living shadow answered.  "Especially in this place."  He almost seemed to sneer at the new Dungeon Master.  "Pity that you were too weak to breach it yourself."

Venger raised an eyebrow before speaking again.  "Why have you come here?" he asked.

"To deliver a message," Shadow Demon responded in a hiss.  "Your presence is requested, Venger.  I believe you know the place."

Venger nodded.  "Tell them that I shall be there."

Without another word, but with what sounded like a vicious and satisfied snarl, Shadow Demon slunk back into the darkened corner of the room, leaving the Dungeon Master alone.  At the sound of a gentle nicker from behind, Venger turned.  Uni had entered the chamber.

"Come, my friend," he said to the unicorn as he drew a kind hand down the length of her forehead to her muzzle.  "We have been summoned."

*          *          *

"_Hear my cries and heed my bellow.  What I need's a nice, soft pillow!"  _

Presto's hat began to glow with a familiar light as he reached in and felt around its fathomless interior.  

"Don't give up your day job, Dr. Presto," Eric remarked from a few feet away.  "Dr. Seuss you're not!"

Presto grumbled as he continued to grope through the inside of the hat, flinching every couple of movements.  

"Speaking of 'doctors' . . . ," Eric added, focusing more of his attention on a slimy coating of black growth attached to a marble column to his right than on the friend to whom he was speaking.  He recoiled with a strangled sound as the dark mucilaginous glaze suddenly seemed to sprout eyes and blink at him.  The Cavalier danced backward a few feet from the column, rubbing and brushing fiercely up and down his body as though something rather unpleasant had been crawling on him that he couldn't quite locate.  Diana looked at him from where she stood in front of Presto, her cinnamon eyes wide and staring, as if they were unable to decide if they were shocked or profoundly amused at Eric's abrupt actions.  Meanwhile, the unknown slimy creature had lazily closed its eyes and returned to its dormant state.

Diana shifted her glare from her friend to the 'offending' organism.  "Well, you sure showed _that_ thing who's boss!" she announced.  "Imagine how much worse it could have been if it had actually _touched_ you!"

Eric regained his composure as though nothing had happened, squaring his shoulders and needlessly brushing off the front of his armor.  "_Speaking_ - _of_ - '_doctors_,'" he repeated, with purpose, not acknowledging Diana's remark, though, under her stare, his cheeks were now blotchy with the embarrassed shade of red he often wore as a teenager after doing something inane, "How come Venger didn't do something to help fix you up, Presto?  He could have used magic, couldn't he?  Or was the pull of getting back to the Dungeon Master's grand tradition of hide-and-seek just too great?"

Presto shrugged as he continued to rummage around the inside of the hat, a movement that caused him to flinch yet again, his golden eyes looking watery from the stinging jolt.  "Maybe it just feels worse than it is," he ventured.  "Or maybe it's just another 'he's-not-supposed-to-interfere' thing.  After all, the old Dungeon Master never did anything like that either."

Eric snorted.  "Yeah, yeah, that's what all the DM's say!  Probably just fancy talk for avoiding malpractice."  He wagged his finger at his friends.  "_This_ is why I don't like HMO's."

Presto rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide his smirk.  "Well, maybe he _did_ help and it just hasn't kicked in yet.   I don't know why you guys are making such a fuss anyway," he added shortly.  "I'm really starting to feel fine.  I _told you that!"_

He finally managed to pull out an answer to his query from his hat, but it was hardly a pillow.  It was more like a burlap sack.  "Potato sack race, anyone?" the Magician suggested with an encouraging nod.  "I think I'm up to it!"

Diana glared down at Presto angrily, her hands on her hips.  "Better to be safe than sorry!  And why are you being such a baby?  You're a doctor, aren't you?"

"Doctors make the worst patients, you know!" the Magician grumbled as he flinched again.

"Well, I'm never going to get finished if you keep squirming all over the place!"

Presto conceded with another grumble and handed over the sack.  Diana folded it into a square-shaped bundle and placed it against his side.  She reached for a piece of the thin tapestry that Bobby had found and torn into strips for her.  Holding the makeshift pillow in place with one hand, she wound the strips around Presto's torso to immobilize the injured area.  

"Too tight?" she asked.

Presto shook his head.  "No, it's just fine."  He looked up at her.  "You do good work."

"I should hope so!" she chuckled teasingly.  "You know, it would work better if you let me bind your arm to your side, too," Diana said to him with a bit more seriousness, as though Dr. Preston Myers didn't already know the best way to set a rib fracture.  "It'll support you better.  And it'd make breathing a lot easier."

"No, thanks," Presto replied.  "I'll feel better if my arms are free.  But thank you," he added with a wry smile.  "Thanks, Diana."

The Acrobat returned his smile; a softer smile with less teasing behind it than the one she had flashed him before.  "You're welcome," she said.  "I guess it would be too much to ask for you not to move, so I'll just say take it easy, okay?"

"Deal," the Magician nodded.

"Daddy?"

Presto looked up to see Varla standing nearby with Ayesha and Toby.  "Hey, Princess!" he exclaimed as his face immediately brightened.  "You're not supposed to be up!"  The girl sat down on the column beside him and Presto placed a tender hand on her scarved forehead.  The colorful sash that had surrounded her head as ornamentation now served as a bandage covering the gash that she received upon striking the fountain.  Her vermilion hair looked dull and tangled beneath it, in contrast to its usual appearance which was like sleek, fiery tinsel.  But it was the least of what was to be expected after her ordeal.  They all, in fact, looked tired, dingy, and in need of some serious recuperation time.  But Varla's face, it seemed to Presto, as though in defiance to all that hardship, was relieved and bright as she smiled back at him.

"I wanted to see if you were okay," she replied as she surveyed the people in the courtyard around her.  "You, and everybody else."

"We're all fine," Presto affirmed.  "So far nothing too terrible."

Varla grinned in relief and glanced around the room again.  "Where's Uni?" she asked as a puzzled look crossed her face.

Presto looked up as well.  "She's . . . .  Well, that's strange," he muttered.  "She's gone, too.  She was here a minute ago."

*          *          *

Diana left her friend with his daughter and crossed the courtyard.  Eric had, likewise, departed to look for his son.  The Acrobat found herself pausing for a moment at what used to be the large reflecting pool at the base of the main stairway.  Where she had once seen a crystal-clear image of herself looking back, was now nothing more than an opaque tarn of murky sludge.  She sighed deeply as she looked away.

"Guess this wasn't exactly the vacation any of us had planned."  

Diana glanced up again at the sound of Hank's voice behind her.  The Ranger had descended three quarters of the way down the long staircase before Diana spotted him.

She smiled as he approached, then shrugged.  "Beats hanging around my brother's house playing 'it's-your-turn-to-choose-where-we're-eating-tonight!'" she laughed.  

Hank returned her smile.  "Yes, and I'll buy _that_ when the Devil starts ice-skating to work!" he jibed good-naturedly.  

"You don't know the types of places my brother likes to eat at!" Diana assured him.  "In the last one there was hay and peanut shells all over the floor!  And don't get me started on the bathroom . . . !"  She trailed off with a shudder.

"Bet you didn't think you'd be put to work on this trip," the Ranger commented, observing the strips of threadbare tapestry that she was still carrying around.

"_Semper paratus_!" Diana said as she wound the remainder of the makeshift bandages into a roll.  "'_Always_ _ready_,' just like the Coast Guard!  Comes from working the graveyard shift as an EMT to help pay for my Masters at UCLA."  Hank laughed briefly, then Diana saw her friend's face fall.  "What's wrong?"

"Since we've had a few minutes to rest, I've been doing some thinking," the Ranger replied.  Diana noted that his eyes looked suddenly bewildered and almost lost, as they often had years ago, any time they watched a portal to their world vanish in a flash of fate.  He set his mouth into a tight grim line as he continued, "About the past . . . and what might have happened if we had made different choices."

"What kinds of choices?"

Hank looked her in the eye.  "The last time we were here, I felt like it was my job to get you all home," he told her.  

"You were a good leader, Hank," Diana responded.  "You helped us to believe that we could make it."  When his face still held that strange look, she cocked her head with a firm mien of reassurance.  "And we _did_."

The Ranger's dour expression softened a bit at her words.  "I may have taken up the role of leader, but I'll tell you what.  I couldn't have done it if it weren't for you guys backing me up -- keeping me believing in myself.  Diana, you --" He finally managed a smile.  "-- you've been one of my best friends for a long time.  And I think that knowing you were behind me through it all made it easier for me to do what I had to do."

The Acrobat blushed a bit at the compliment.  "Thank you, Hank," she said, and was about to say more when she noticed the Ranger's face regress into its previous severe look.

"I just can't help but think," Hank continued, "That if I was really the leader you all needed me to be, I would have made it so we wouldn't _have to come back here again."  He paused for a moment before adding, much more quietly, "So our children would never have needed to be brought to this . . . place."_

_So that's what's bothering him,_ Diana thought, her face falling a bit in response to her friend's helpless demeanor.  _He blames himself for us having to come back here.  For the kids being forced into this._   It wasn't often that Hank showed this side, even as a teenager.  She could literally count on one hand the number of times their unofficial leader had allowed his despair to show; and those were usually quietly and privately, during night watch when neither he nor Diana could sleep.  Only once could she recall him ever losing hold of his emotions in front of the whole group – the time they faced Venger in the Dragon's Graveyard.  The time they had almost destroyed him for good . . . .

Hank looked away.  "Maybe if we had . . . or if _I had . . . stayed a little longer . . . fought off the remaining evil in the Realm like Dungeon Master had asked us to.  Maybe things would have been different -- now."  _

Hank glanced around the destruction that was once the majestic Tardos Keep.  He would have been happy living out the rest of his life never knowing the horrible fate that had befallen this beautiful place.  Especially since he may have had the power to do something about it.  His mind turned to his friends, his family, and especially the children.  Since arriving here, they had faced real-life battles, encountered raging Orcs, witnessed devastating magic, and had their very lives threatened over and over.  His own daughter had been forced to stare down a merciless force of evil after seeing Bobby nearly die before her eyes.  The people that the Ranger loved did not belong here.  And if something _he_ could have done in the past might have prevented this —

"Would you really want things to be different though, Hank?" Diana's peaceful voice broke him out of his mental reproach.  She placed a tender hand on his arm and sat him down on the steps, easing herself next to him.  "You can't honestly believe that you had the responsibility to right all the wrongs and prevent all the suffering in _two worlds."  She looked him square in the eye.  "You shoulder too much.  __We were given a choice sixteen years ago after we beat Venger and __we made our decision together.  We chose to go home.  And look at everything you have as a result of that decision.  You have Sheila, you have a beautiful daughter, you have a happy life.  You can't feel responsible for the path that a person takes after you leave them.  The same goes for the Realm."_

"All I do, all day long is study and discuss the past," Hank said with a minute shrug.  "It's what I do for a living, so I guess I can't help but think about it."

"Well, you're Mr. History!" Diana joked, using the name with which Eric had labeled Hank earlier.  She then found a more serious tone, but kept an encouraging smile on her face.  "Learn from the past, yes, but don't live in it," she said.  "Remember when you were trying to figure out the best way to ask Sheila for a date?"

Hank nodded with up-cast eyes and couldn't force down the smile that crept across his face.  Diana had actually been the one who had helped him to, as he called it, "get his butt in gear," by insisting that the stunning redhead really did like him, and that he had nothing to lose by asking.

Their first date had been the day the Young Ones were transported to the Realm.

"If you hadn't done that," Diana continued, "Maybe nothing would have come of it after we got back.  And if you, or all of us, had stayed in the Realm, you might not have the life that you have now.  Besides," she added with a bright smile, "I have just as much faith in you now as I ever did, Ranger.  You'll lead us home again.  I know it!"

Hank smiled at the woman who, with the exception of his wife, had been his long-time friend as well as his rock.  "Thanks," he said as he rose off the step.  He straightened his tunic, almost a visual signal that the previous matter was closed and a new topic of conversation was about to begin.  "So," he said, reaching a hand down to help her up as well, "I didn't get to ask you about what happened with Mordreth.  I guess it wasn't foremost on my mind since everyone seemed to have made it back in one piece."

As she allowed Hank to pull her to her feet, Diana fingered the still-tender lump on the back of her head from when Eric had tackled her out from underneath Mordreth's ceiling.  "More or less," she agreed.  "Although, to be honest, there were a few moments where I had my doubts."

Hank narrowed his eyes in concern.  "Was it bad?" he asked.  The Mistress of War had been bad enough.  He hated to think about what the Dark Lord of Destruction had done to his friends.

Diana shrugged.  "Nothing that the Cavalier and I couldn't handle," she announced with an air of dramatic triumph.  

Hank smiled softly.  "Some things don't change."

"And, of course, the kids were incredible," Diana added quickly.  "It was like they'd been doing this for as long as we have!"

"I can vouch for that, too," the Ranger affirmed.  "In fact, I'm going to go check on my fellow 'soldiers' right now.  What do you say we all meet down here in about an hour?  With any luck, Venger will reappear and we'll learn what more we have to do to go home."

"Good plan, Ranger," Diana grinned, giving his arm a gentle squeeze as Hank turned from her to find Sheila, Ayesha, Teri, and Bobby.  She looked up and to her left where she caught a glimpse of the Cavalier and his son standing together just across the courtyard.  She paused for a moment before starting to make her way over.

*          *          *

John made several quick parries through the air, his hand gripping an imaginary sword.  He stepped forward into a dramatic thrust as he grinned up at his father.  The Squire's eyes shone like a boy at play without a care in the world, and part of Eric twisted inside to think about what his son had really had to face.  

_Fake swordplay is the only kind of battle he should have ever known, Eric thought.  He shook his head.  __I thought we were done with this place._

"Y'think Cassie's worried about us?" John mused offhandedly through his random thrusts, breaking Eric out of his reverie.

"I don't know," the Cavalier sighed in reply, although doubting it immensely.  Not only was it possible that very little time had actually gone by on Earth, but Cassie, herself, was practically dauntless.  He wondered if even _this_ story would faze the ever-composed nanny.  She would probably just smile and throw out one of her little pearls of wisdom as though nothing earth-shattering had occurred.  He could just picture the calm look in her sky blue eyes as he launched into his chronicle of what had happened, as well as how she might respond:  

_Well, Cass, it's like this.  The kids were nabbed off the Dungeons and Dragons ride by this seven-foot-tall, formerly-evil warlock and sucked into an alternate dimension to take on three creatures created by the nastiest, nameless Column-Of-Fire you could ever meet.  So, of course, my friends and I had to go after them and – since there's apparently a dress code for fighting evil – we had to go looking like we were headed for the role-playing club's annual fantasy convention.  Anyway, the bad guys showed up, they scared us, we fought them, and they went away; book closed, end of story -- all this and home in time for supper.  And by the way, what **is** for supper?  'Cause, you know, vanquishing evil sure works up an appetite!_

_Well, Eric, a wise man once said, 'To step into the breach and face the unknown for that which you value most is the greatest risk worth taking.'  That's the first thing you should know._

_Riiiiight . . . .  And is there a second thing?_

_Sonja made pot roast._

_Oh._

Eric shook his head, bringing himself out of his daydream.  Nope, Cassie probably wouldn't even raise an eyebrow.  Though she may use his clearly insane story as ammunition in her crusade against him working too hard.  (That was if he was lucky.  She _could_ petition to have him committed.)  And if it wouldn't be just like her to turn this into a parable!  For an insane moment, the Cavalier wondered what would have happened if he had brought John's nanny along.  They were, after all, going through some serious riddle withdrawal on this trip.

"So, Dad," John said, changing the subject as he made an elaborate figure-eight through the air with his 'sword,'  "What kind of monsters and stuff did you kick the crap out of while you were here?"

Eric exhaled thoughtfully through his teeth, too busy thinking of an answer to the question to give much thought to his son's uncouth choice of words.  "Well . . . ," he began.  He looked down at his shield and, for the first time, wished that he had been given a different weapon.  A bow like Hank's or even a club like Bobby's may have painted a more impressive picture of the Cavalier's time in the Realm.  Granted, he had that sword now (Well, _sort_ of), but that was a new addition.  (Hell, he hadn't even had it long enough to get used to the stupid thing!)  But a shield?  Just a shield?  Kind of hard to "kick the crap" out of anything with that.  Not to mention the fact that the Cavalier had spent at least three quarters of his time here either hiding behind it or running screaming from every fight.  It was a good long time in this world before Eric had started to act on the courage that had always been buried within him.  And even longer before the Cavalier, himself, had realized that it was there.  Once again, he found himself intimidated at the thought of disappointing his son.

"Well," Eric began again, "We _all . . . ."_

"You were a hero, right?" the youth coaxed eagerly.

The tips of Eric's ears reddened a bit.  "Well, I don't know about--"

"You were great," John interrupted.  "Bobby said you were."

Eric was taken aback.  "H-he did?"  The Cavalier felt an unconscious grin curl a corner of his mouth.  

"He said that you saved everybody's lives and that you even fought Venger one-on-one!  He said you were awesome!"

Eric's grin widened and he chuckled.  All this from Bobby.  The Cavalier and the Barbarian had been eternally on each others' case, but right now, Eric almost felt bad about all the teasing he had inflicted upon the kid.  He'd have to thank Bobby when they saw each other later.  Eric shrugged modestly as he opened his mouth to speak.  "Actually . . . ."

"Now tell him the truth, Cavalier," a voice came from nearby.  Diana stood leaning against a broken wall.  She uncrossed her arms and took a few more steps toward them.  Eric was a bit unnerved by the smile on her face, which was bright but shrewd, and his ears turned red again.  

"I think your son is entitled to the whole story, don't you?" she asked playfully.

Eric grimaced.  What was it going to be?  How he almost married Queen Zinn for her treasure?  How opening his big mouth usually resulted in the group getting chased by random ogres, barbarians, and bullywogs?  How his most sarcastic commentary was often reserved for Dungeon Master and his riddles?  Or, better yet, his latest, very impressive, encounter with the Evil-Column-Slime-Creature-of-Death?  The tips of his ears were burning hot now.

Diana turned to John.  "Your father," she said, "Once led an entire tribe of Bogbeasts to fight for their freedom.  Did he tell you that?" She flashed a sideways smile at the Cavalier who blinked back at her in slight shock.  He felt his own smile renew, surprised that she had conveniently left out the fact that he had _been one of the frog-faced creatures at the time._

John shook his head and continued to look at Diana, eager for her to continue.  "He was always the one who protected all of us," she said, clearly getting into the drama of her explanation.  "He's saved my neck more times than I can count.  And he was really smart.  In fact, it was your dad's quick thinking that eventually got us home."  Eric stared at her with absolute disbelief now.  "Don't you remember, Eric?" she said as she turned back to the Cavalier.  "You were the one who unlocked the cenotaph at Realm's Edge instead of throwing the key into that Abyss."  She bent down to whisper in John's ear in a voice that was not intended to be very quiet.  "That was how Venger turned good again!"

"Diana," Eric said as a modest plea for her to stop.  The Acrobat knew as well as he did that using the key had actually been Hank's idea.  But Eric kept smiling anyway.  

All John could say was, "Wow!" in a voice that was scarcely a breath.

"I'm sorry," Diana said as she broke character and straightened up again.  "I wasn't interrupting anything, was I?"

"Nah," Eric said, collecting himself, "In fact, I'd been meaning to officially introduce you.  John, this is my good friend Diana Beck-- er, _Vaughn_.  Diana Vaughn."

"Beckett," Diana corrected softly.  She turned her face to Eric for a moment before addressing John again.  "Diana Beckett.  It's really a pleasure to meet you, John." She extended her hand to the boy with a warm smile.  He accepted it in kind.

"Well," she announced, "I was just checking up on everybody – and letting you know that Hank wants us all to met in the square in about an hour.  I'll let you get back to whatever it was you were doing."

"Oh, n-no, that's okay," John faltered as he looked from Eric to Diana.  "I was just leaving anyway."  The boy backed away a few steps with a smirk before turning and walking swiftly across the courtyard.

"Was it something I said?" Diana chuckled.  "He seemed eager to—"  She faced Eric.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," he said with a shake of his head, although he was still smiling.  "I think you gave me a lot more credit than I deserved."

"Hey, I told you," the Acrobat returned, "I don't lie to kids.  I wouldn't have said it if it wasn't true."

*          *          *

John was still walking away, craning his head back every few feet to catch glimpses of his father and Diana behind him; so much so that he neglected to watch where he was going.  The Squire felt himself strike something and tumble backwards onto his rump.

"You know, the chances or tripping are smaller if you actually _look_ where you're going," drawled a lazy sounding voice from above him.  "And you were the one who complained at _me for ramming into you when we first met!"_

John looked up to see Toby standing over him, the older boy looking slightly self-righteous, if not a bit mischievous, as though he was very pleased about something.  The Fighter lowered his hand to help the boy up.  "Smooth, Johnny Boy.  Real smooth," Toby sighed with a cocky grin on his face.  "That wasn't obvious or anything!"

John accepted Toby's offer of his hand, but then brushed it away as soon as he was standing.  "What are you talking about?" he said in the defensive voice that he had used so often before.

The Fighter shrugged.  "It's no use trying to hide it," he replied.  "You want to see them get back together."

"_What!?!" the boy exclaimed.  "I don't know what the heck you're talking about!  What makes you think I want my dad to get . . . .  What do you mean '__back' together?"  John's demeanor went from defensive to curious._

"Oh, . . . uh, yeah," Toby responded, a bit hesitant suddenly since this was obviously something that John hadn't known.  "Your father and my Aunt Di were an item once.  Oh, it was years ago.  I was just a baby."  He paused for a moment as though something had just struck him.  "It must have been right after they got back from this place," he added quietly, more to himself.

"Is _that why you were giving me such a hard time when we met!?" John suddenly bellowed, snapping Toby out of his thoughts.  "Because my dad dumped your aunt?"_

"Hey!" Toby returned as he clamped his hand over the younger boy's mouth.  "Shh!"  He glanced back and forth to see if anyone had heard the Squire's rant before releasing him.  "Watch it, Montgomery!  And what makes you think _he dumped her anyway?  My aunt's pretty smart.  If you ask me, she probably dropped him like a bad habit!"_

"Oh, _yeah!?" John began formulating a comeback._

Toby slung his arm around the Squire's neck.  "Hey, John, I'm just kidding, buddy," he said with a lopsided grin.  "Just kidding."

John quieted a bit as he glanced back over to where he left Eric with Diana.  "Truth?" he asked.  

Toby nodded.  "Sure."

The Squire shrugged with a sheepish smile.  "I . . . I kinda like your aunt.  I-I mean . . .,"  He straightened his shoulders and took on a more disinterested air.  "You know . . . she's _okay_."

Toby grinned back.  "Of course you do.  She's the best," he affirmed.  "And I'll let you in on a little secret, Johnny Boy," he continued as he lowered his voice and followed John's gaze back in the direction Diana and Eric, "I don't think you're alone."

*          *          *

"Well, Mr. Montgomery," Diana said, "You've managed to raise a fine son.  I don't know what you were so worried about."  She crossed her arms back over her chest and took a step closer to his side.

"I wasn't _worried_," Eric replied.  "I just said that there were things I should have done differently.  Better."

"Well," Diana laughed, "Whatever you did, he doesn't seem to resent you at all."  She glanced over in the direction that the boy had walked across the yard.  "In fact, he seems to worship the ground you walk on.  I mean, he's strutting around with your shield's emblem painted to his chest like it's a badge of honor.  I can tell he's a great kid."

Eric shrugged as he sat down on a moss-covered bench.  Removing his gauntlets and setting them aside, he rubbed at his hands momentarily before resting them on his thighs.  "He's got his mother's best qualities," he said quietly.

Diana suddenly felt as though she had been stung.  She uncrossed her arms and sat down beside her friend, hesitating briefly before blanketing one of his hands with her own in a comforting gesture.  "I'm sorry," she whispered, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, "I never meant to--"

"No, it's okay," Eric interrupted.  He turned his head to face her, allowing his eyes to linger on hers.  It only lasted a few moments, but it felt much longer.  He then turned back to facing front.  "I mean, it's been nearly twelve years.  It doesn't hurt to think about her nearly as much as it did but, you know, I still miss her.  I'll always miss her."

Diana nodded her head in understanding.  "Believe me, Eric," she said, "I know how it feels to lose your first love." 

"Yeah, I guess you do," the Cavalier returned with a dry smile.  "First-hand experience."  He fell quiet again for a few moments.  "So, how are you feeling now, any better?" he finally asked, changing the subject.  

"Let me put it this way, Eric," Diana answered, "I am _so_ glad that my hair isn't as long as it used to be!  Otherwise, I'd still look like the bride of Frankenstein from that electric shock I got."

"Still bad?"

Diana shrugged.  "It's not so much that it _hurts_," she said.  "It's more like I can still feel some of the magic under my skin."  She rubbed her hands up and down the lengths of her arms, as though trying to massage away a bone-deep chill.  "I've pretty much been able to ignore it, though, since this has happened before."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, . . . Starfall," she replied, as though the answer should have been obvious.  "It's similar to that fiery, tingly feeling that I felt for the days after Starfall.  Almost like there's not enough room for both the magic and me in my own body.  But it'll go away.  It did the last time."

"I'm sorry," Eric muttered.

"Hey, there's nothing you could have done!" the Acrobat reassured him.  "You kinda had your hands full!"

"Well, yeah, but I was really talking about . . . .  You know, I tried to change the subject before, but we still ended up back at that whole Starfall / Kosar thing again."  Eric shrugged with a regretful expression.  "Sorry."

Diana turned to him with a smile.  "Don't be," she told him.  "It's just like you said: It doesn't hurt to think about it as much as it used to.  You always miss your first love, but you never forget them."

"And I did love Denise," Eric nodded.  He looked up at her with an expression that was suddenly unreadable, as though he was trying to convey something with his eyes, but could quite figure out how to do it . . . or even if he should.  He finally opened his mouth to speak again, shrugging his way uncomfortably through the words.  "I loved her very much . . . but . . . um, . . . I'd be lying if I said she was my _first_ love."

Diana chewed on her bottom lip as she suddenly felt very uneasy.  Then she forced up a large smile.  "Oh, that's right," she exclaimed, a bit over-dramatically, "There was Queen Zinn!"

"Pfft!  Oh, come on!" Eric said in a droning laugh that broke, momentarily, through his awkwardness.  "Give me a little credit, would you?"

"Sorry," Diana replied, chuckling herself.

Eric suddenly turned serious.  "I've been wanting to say something to you," he said with a fair amount of hesitation.  "I wasn't going to because it's a little bit nuts.  But after all we've been through in the few days we've been back in this crazy world, I figured that if I don't I'll probably regret it."

Diana nodded silently for him to continue.

"I was telling Hank the night of the reunion how mad I was at myself that we never kept in touch with each other.  I never meant to lose your friendship, Diana, and I hope I never have to again."  He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully, and purposefully avoiding the Acrobat's eyes.  "But it's more than that, and I think I realized it back in Mordreth's fortress . . . when you told me to leave you under that ceiling.  Losing your friendship was bad; losing you entirely would have been unbearable."

"Eric . . . ," Diana muttered softly.

"No, let me finish," the Cavalier insisted with a nervous chuckle, "This is the _crazy_ part.  Ever since we got back to this world, I've been having thoughts . . . about maybe giving us another shot.  But," he quickly added, "You know, with Cale and everything . . . .  Anyway, I told you it was nuts!"  Eric flashed his trademark smirk.

Diana looked at him as though processing what he had just said.  Then, carefully, she began to speak.  "Do you remember last night when you kissed me?" she asked.

Eric contorted his face as though thinking very hard.  "Now, let me see . . . ."  Diana gave him a shot in the arm.  "Ow!  Yes!  Yes!  Of course I remember!"

Diana half-grinned at his attempt at a joke before continuing.  "I thought a lot about whether or not it happened just because we were back in the Realm.  I thought about how complicated it could make things once we got home.  I thought about how hard it would be.  But then, when we were battling Mordreth together, I thought about how much harder it would be _without_ the other person around . . . even someone who makes me as crazy as you do!"

Eric raised a questioning eyebrow, but allowed her to continue.  

"We went through a lot of hardship in the Realm," Diana said, "But after we got back, I did something that I never would have done here:  I took an easy way out.  After all the fighting we did in this world, the one thing we _should_ have fought for, we didn't.  I was all wrapped up in how hard things would be -- the problems, the so-called 'social pressure' -- I never imagined that I had put myself down the hardest path of all."  

Diana met his eyes fully, something she hadn't really done up to now, and Eric could see himself mirrored in their deep coloring, like twin points of polished bronze.  "Let me put it to you this way, Eric," she said after a long silent moment, "it couldn't possibly be harder for me to get over Cale Vaughn  . . . than it was to get over you."  Diana lowered her eyes, as though bringing a curtain down on his reflection, and the Cavalier felt a twinge of loss at their absence.

Eric's mouth felt dry, but he couldn't resist asking the one question that had been on his mind, "What about Kosar?"

Diana shrugged, almost shyly, still avoiding his gaze.  "Getting over Kosar was difficult.  But getting over your first love is easier . . . than trying to get over the love of your life."

Eric's expression was a mixture of shock and joy.  He then backed off for a moment with a thoughtful look.  "That _is_ me, right?" he asked, followed by a charming smile.

Diana gave an exasperated sigh, finally bringing her line of vision up from where it had been focused on her lap.  "And to think I told your son that you were smart!" she droned.  Eric's smile brightened as he reached forward to take her hands.  "But," Diana stopped him as she interjected, "I will admit, trying it again won't be easy – here _or_ at home.  Don't forget you have a son whose feelings you have to consider before anything else."

Eric shook his head, his smile never fading.  "I meant what I said last night about you being a great parent.  Always thinking of the child's feelings first."  He glanced over to where he had watched John disappear earlier.  The boy was nowhere in sight now.  "But something tells me my son's going to like you."

"Now, Cavalier," Diana warned, "You're not just saying that because we don't know how, or if, we're even going to make it home this time?"

Eric fixed his gaze on his feet for a moment.  Then his voice came again, in all sincerity, echoing Diana's earlier words.  "I wouldn't have said it if it wasn't true."  

He finally raised his head to a position where, again, his eyes managed to lock on hers.  Gone were the feelings of awkwardness that had bubbled up earlier every time he looked at her;  the doubt, the questions about whether or not he even had the right to feel what he had been feeling since seeing her again.  The only thing left was the warm familiarity that had been there sixteen years ago, and Eric's smile widened.  He reached forward to take one of her hands and, this time, Diana let him.  "You want to hear something else?" he asked very quietly as his other came up to touch the side of her face.  "I love you, Diana Vaughn.  I have for a long time.  I still do.  And I know now that I always will."

Diana smiled back, barely daring to blink as she looked at him.  "Beckett," she said softly.  "My name is Diana Beckett."

She then closed her eyes as she felt him move toward her, though a clear image of the man before her still burned vividly across her inner lids; the face of the swaggering youth he had been, the true friend that he was, the selfless and courageous man that he had become.  Her pulse quickened as she slowly began to feel the warm puff of his breath on her face and the smell of sweat mingled faintly with the still-present scent of spicy, expensive soap.__

He paused hesitantly where he was, as though teetering on the edge of a chasm that had been formed over the past sixteen years, one that he hadn't felt able to cross the last time he had been this close to her, almost twenty-four hours before.  He caught his breath and stroked the pad of his thumb across her face before taking a final leap of faith across that chasm, closing the gap between them until their lips gently touched.

And this time, she let him.

*          *          *

Hank found Sheila at the high window that overlooked Tardos Valley.  "Where are the others?" he asked.

"Bobby and Teri were just here," she replied.  "And Ayesha went back downstairs to see Varla and the other children."

The Ranger put his arm around his wife as he reached her and gazed out the window, too.  Although the valley itself was rocky and barren, the light that the low suns cast upon the rocks created a mosaic of color, dancing and changing as the light hit them.  In the distance, a harmonious moan could be heard, like whale song, as the call of one of the Realm's many creatures was carried over the terrain until it reached the ears of the listening humans.  Not very often had the Young Ones been afforded the opportunity to enjoy the alien beauty of this world's sights and sounds.  And even less often had Hank and Sheila been able to enjoy them together.  Hank wrapped both arms around Sheila and held her closer.  She allowed her head to drop back against his shoulder.  "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I was just wondering where Venger disappeared to," Sheila replied.  "Whenever the old Dungeon Master left us, we at least had some information about where we had to go and what we had to do.  Venger . . . was just _gone_."

"I'm sure he'll be back soon," Hank reassured her.  "He wouldn't leave us flying blind.  Not after he helped us all to get back here."

"I know," Sheila sighed.  "It may seem strange, but I trust him.  Even after everything that happened in the past, I still trust him.  It's just that . . . ," she paused thoughtfully as she reached up to grip the arms that enfolded her, ". . . I can't shake the feeling that something is going to happen.  And I'm worried, Hank.  For our children, for us, _even_ for Venger.  I'm just . . . worried."

*          *          *

The appointed hour of night had not yet arrived.  In fact, it was barely dusk.  But the obscure darkness that shrouded the land was enough for midnight.  The towering individual stood nobly on the stark plain, gazing at the ancient megaliths surrounding him.  He had been here before, among the primitive configuration of tomb-like dolmens, encircled by the surreal glow of a cold mantle of fog.  The last time, however, _he had called the meeting.  _He_ had been the aggressor.  Now, he could only wait with knowing wariness for the ones who had heralded him._

He heard a soft thumping at the ground nearby and turned.  He regarded the beautiful single-horned mare who stood there, almost seeming to shed her own illumination, regardless of the desolate gloom around them.  "Calm, my friend," he attempted to ease her.  "It will not be long now."

"Indeed, it will not," a venomous woman's voice hissed through the fog.  Nearly as icy as the air itself.

A magical bolt split the air and struck the center of the circle of towering basalt stones.  When it dispersed, it revealed a triad of figures, at first dimly glimpsed through the swirling haze, then growing increasingly visible.  The individual in the center raised a finely arched brow over a callous golden eye.  "Venger," she sneered.

The former Archmage, for the first time, scowled at the word, baring teeth that were no longer fanged, but every bit as angered.  "That is not my name," he stated in a cold and level voice, regaining his proud posture as he glared back at Kadysse and her consociates.  

The wicked siren tossed her scarlet hair, which fell in cascades over the shoulders of the midnight black gown that she was once again wearing.  She shot an amused glance in the direction of Mordreth on her right and Bane on her left before addressing the man in front of her again, her voice a cruel purr.

"That's right -- it's _Dungeon Master now.  You should know, fool, that we shall never acknowledge you as a 'master' of anything," Kadysse announced with a vicious grin.  "Not even to this accursed dungeon of a Realm.  You are a traitor to the One whom you once called 'Master,' yourself.  Or do you not remember?"_

"I remember hatred coursing through my veins," the Dungeon Master replied calmly.  "As well as the brutality, evil, and savagery that accompanied the serving of your Lord.  I recall the countless lives and lands that I destroyed in His name.  But I also recall the sense of freedom and peace at being released from His control."

"You are more of a puppet than ever," Bane snarled over Kadysse's left shoulder.  "This Realm is the Master that controls you now.  You are chained to it in servitude, when you could have been ruling in domination."

The former Venger raised a civil eyebrow to the reptilian creature who now donned his former garments.  "I serve the Realm and its people," he responded, "As it was meant to be.  And if it is a bond, then so be it.  Better to attend to the righteous than cower in dread from a Master who would smite on a whim."

"And your precious Young Ones?" Kadysse asked.  "You believe that the ones who -- _redeemed you can save you?  As well as your beloved Realm . . . should our Master's __whim be to strike down everything that you see?"_

Dungeon Master held his head proudly, glaring at the evil trinity.  "They _have saved us," he affirmed.  "With the purity in their hearts they have beaten you."  His eyes traveled steadily over the beings before him.  "Just as they did me, in my folly, time and time again."  His ruby eyes flashed and focused in a dead stare.  "As they will continue to do to you if needs be."  He straightened and summoned a commanding voice.  "I ask you to leave this place and carry out your Master's evil elsewhere."_

"An ultimatum?  From you?"  Kadysse threw her head back, her wicked laughter echoing over the massive dolmens and swirling into the churning fog.  Uni stomped at the ground in a frightened dance as the malevolent cackle rang through the chilling darkness.  The Dungeon Master raised a hand to calm her.

"Fool," Mordreth growled deeply, "The only thing you have accomplished by bringing them here is the heightening of our Master's hatred for you and your abominable Realm.  And," he added as his bony helm curled into a satisfied sneer, "You have doomed your pupils."

Kadysse ceased her vicious laughter, locking her feral eyes onto the Dungeon Master's.  "Your threats are hollow.  Ours, however, are not!  It was foolish of you to believe that He would not tend to this matter _personally," she hissed.  "But you always were rash where the Master was concerned.  In your haste for what you call 'freedom,' did you even conceive that He would want revenge upon you for your betrayal?  . . . As well as on those who stole you from Him?"_

Dungeon Master's eyes widened reflexively, with more alarm than he would have liked, bringing a pleased smile to Kadysse's lips.  She broke away from her companions and moved to stand directly in front of him.  The evil woman may have been dwarfed by him in terms of size, but the chill smile both on her lips and in her eyes gave her a bearing of superiority so strident that she may have been ten feet tall.  She placed a hand over the area of his heart and lightly curled her fingers inward, toying playfully with the fabric beneath them.  

The Dungeon Master did not move or react.

As the Dark Mistress looked up into his face, her golden eyes met his garnet ones and she spread her hand out flat over his chest.  

"Does this new heart of yours beat faster now that you know what you have done?" she sneered, so softly, yet so coldly that it may well have turned the fog around them to frozen crystal.  "You have given the Master exactly what He wanted, fool.  And you did not even know it!  Strange how you were unable to do so as His servant -- but as His enemy you have delivered His adversaries directly into His hands."  She leaned as close as she could to the hardened face of the Dungeon Master above her and said in a cruel whisper, "How deliciously ironic."

Slowly, Kadysse began to withdraw from him, her vicious smile still hovering across her mouth and her eyes still focused unyieldingly on his.  Her hand trailed up his chest to his face where her fingertips lightly stroked his cheek – a cheek that had once been a macabre fish-pale blue; one that was now a fair ivory tone, though, at the moment, blemished faintly with crimson – but whether it was from the frigidness of the air or from something else couldn't be certain.  Kadysse allowed her fingertips to linger upon his face briefly before sliding them away as she stepped back.  It may have been a parting touch of affection had the woman before him not filled her every movement with such mordant hatred.  "Farewell then, . . . _Venger!"  Kadysse finally said, deliberately spitting out the despised name through her teeth, her voice rising and dripping with disdain.  Her shoulders shook with the beginnings of renewed mocking laughter._

As she spoke, the three evil creatures moved closer together, malevolent light permeating out of their eyes and lending itself to a horrific aura beginning to shine all around them.  What started out as renewed laughter from the Mistress of War became a ghastly screech as a column of light exploded out of the triad and rocketed skyward, forming a crackling pillar of blinding magic.  Venger watched as the shaft of light pierced the heavens and, after several eternal moments, vanished beyond the stars, leaving no trace of the evil creatures who had been standing before him.

"Pity," said a dark and unctuous voice from behind.  The being once known as Venger turned and met a set of hollow, inimical eyes hovering within the shadowy and unsubstantial head of his former minion.  The Dungeon Master regarded Shadow Demon with an expression of stone.  "Pity that your pathetic father managed to escape my true Master's wrath," the living umbra sneered as he flew tauntingly close to the towering mage.  "But his precious son, his beloved Young Ones . . . as well as the lives of their children . . . make for an even trade."  He darted in front of his former lord's face, eyes squinting into a malicious smile.  "Wouldn't you say, . . . _Master?"_

Venger glared scathingly at the creature who had once been his servant.  "When?" he asked.

Shadow Demon almost seemed to give a small shrug, a minute gesture of disinterest.  "When it suits Him," he replied.  "Kadysse, Mordreth, and Bane have gone to rejoin Him.  When He is ready, they will _all_ come for you."  Shadow Demon paused before adding, "As well as your Young Ones!"

The Dungeon Master took a reflexive step forward, causing the living shadow to shrink back in alarm.  Shadow Demon froze for a brief second, then sank through the ground below him, retiring to the dark places where he resided to wait for his Master.

Alone again with Uni among the ancient megaliths and the luminary thick fog, the towering mage lost himself in deep thought.  He seemed to stand motionless for a very long time before the unicorn nuzzled his arm gently.  Awakening from his reverie, the former Venger placed one hand gently upon the withers of his loyal steed, and gripped his crystal amulet with the other.  The latter hand began to tremble from his intense grip as the tear-shaped pendant glowed with an intense red light.  "Come, my friend," he said, almost hypnotically, to Uni.  "We must return."

The ominous clouds collecting over the land gathered too quickly and the mage lifted his head to face them.  For the first time in two hundred years, the first time since becoming Keeper of the Realm, the Dungeon Master raised his eyes to the heavens . . . and was afraid.

*          *          *

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued

**Author's Notes:**  Sure, things are all nice and calm for the Young Ones right now, but, obviously, all that is about to change – drastically!  In chapters to come look for Eric's sword to make another appearance, Teri has more dreams of a future that doesn't look too bright, the evil trio returns for a final showdown (and they may not be alone!), an enemy appears that the Young Ones _never_ would have suspected, Hank and Sheila test their mettle to save their family, and oh, yeah, someone may die.  *shudder*

By my count, there should be about 5 chapters left.  Hope you enjoy what's to come!

I should also mention that the mysterious meeting place at the end of this chapter is the same one in which Venger meets with the old Dungeon Master at the beginning of Michael Reaves' script for the unproduced "Requiem" episode.  Any confusion caused by references made to that text can be cleared up by reading the story found at http://www.mindspring.com/~michaelreaves/D&Dpreface.html!

**Special Thanks:**  To my friends and all reviewers!

Choo, John W. (who is writing his own terrific story!), Mayumi-H (whose RE fics are just great!), Callisto Jellicle, Lady Iapetus, Lain (current ArtMaster of the Realm 2002), Rod G., Charlie, Ossian, Mimi, Illusioness (a.k.a. Saoirse), Claire J. Cracknell / Bea, Rapier, Thomas, Danny Mitchell, Eric Sachs, ShadowDrake (who I hope writes more D&D soon!), Toni, SarWolf Snape, Stacy, Mike, Mistri, Kristy Marie, Miran, srg3332, Claire, Haystack, Jacob, carlyd, Thomas, ShadowCatJen, Northstar, Tomm Byrn, QOShea, thechairmanh2k, Beetlejuice, Tarvok (the constantly vigilant), Maz, Chance (the ever-supportive), Tommy, Cassie, Dre, Caryn, Joey, Goddess of Gushy Stuff (my 'snogging muse' *G*), Kat / Ntrophi and Lady Kayoss (with whom I love to discuss all things literary and, though they are not authors in this fandom, have helped me with this story more than they know), of course Heidi and EQ (my sounding boards), and Kimmy (Mistress of Darkhaven) whose incredible archive of stories by so many talented authors is one of the reasons I have written anything at all!

Also, the portraits drawn by Lain (without whom I would never know what the "New Dungeon Master" looked like *g*) can be found in the art gallery at http://www.zaksrealm.net/The_Realm.html.

Thank you!  :)


	13. Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Disclaimer:  **Since its development in 1983, the animated series _Dungeons and Dragons_ has belonged to the following at some point:  Marvel Productions, TSR, Inc., Wizards of the Coast,  Saban Entertainment, (according to rumor) Disney, and possibly even others.  I guess my point is, it does not (nor has it ever) belonged to me.  Oh, well!  This story, however, does!  I hope you enjoy it!

**Rating:  ****PG_-_13 for some language and violent elements**

**Summary:  **Flashing back and looking ahead, shocking revelations, daring decisions, a gateway home, and a vision.  This can't end well.

**Author's Note:**  My italics that I had inserted throughout the beginning don't seem to be working the way I wanted.  I'll play around with it, but in the meantime, I'll post it for reading at least.  Ah, the joys of modern technology!  *grumble*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**_LEGACY_**

**_Chapter 13 -- Something Wicked This Way Comes _**_*_

"According to this, it means 'life.'" 

The older woman glanced up from what she was doing and fixed a steady eye upon the 12-year-old girl who sat at her kitchen table.  She looked on with genuine interest as the child toiled over the papers and books that had been spread out all over its surface.  The woman's hands never deviated from their task as she continued to work the tacky dough beneath her fists.  She instinctively reached into the miniature basin at her elbow and added a touch more flour to the small mound of dough, continuing to knead it thoroughly.  It was amazing how she seemed to know just how much flour to pinch between her fingers without looking, especially since, if she added too much, the mixture wouldn't be sticky enough to make the perfect loaf of bread.  But she had been doing this for so many years it was like second nature by now.

That, and her eyes were a bit busy at the moment.  They were fixed upon her granddaughter. 

_The girl was a picture of concentration.  Her eyes scanned the papers surrounding her as she jotted something down in the margin of the rapidly-filling notebook leaf.  She shifted in her seat, her legs tucking beneath her in the chair, and she raised herself a bit onto her knees to check for something in a large, well-used, hardcover book that sat just out of her immediate range of vision on the table.  Her tongue poked unconsciously between her lips while she craned forward to study the words upon the page there, as though her task required the most delicate focus.  Her hair had begun to frizz up at the ends which had escaped the blonde, shoulder-length braid that her mother had plaited earlier that morning, and a slight flush had spread through her cheeks from the heat of the oven in the kitchen, nearly hiding the freckles that lightly dotted her porcelain complexion.  _

_Regardless of the heat, she had wanted to stay here in the kitchen to complete her homework since this was where her grandmother would be for most of the early part of the day, putting the finishing touches on the Thanksgiving dinner.  After all, the girl saw her grandparents so rarely as it was.  She wanted to spend as much time with them as she could before she and her family flew back home the day after tomorrow._

_"What, Dear?" the older woman replied, shifting her gaze back to the ball of dough in her hands for a moment as she molded it into its final shape, placed it aside and reached for a second.  She then returned her eyes to the blonde child across from her._

_"This."  The girl pointed at the slightly loose and heavily-marked page in the large book that she had been using.  "It says here that my name is Arabic and it means 'life.'"_

_The woman squinted at the upside-down words on the page to which her granddaughter was pointing.  She knew that book very well.  Her family had had it for years.  The pages were slightly yellowed and the margins inky from the generations of relatives having left their own marks behind.  The oversized text contained several thousand names (both common and not-so-common) and, over the years, a good number had been checked off as family members christened their children with them.  She knew that the volume bore her own moniker, a name that boasted several tick-marks beside it as it had been passed to many children in their family over the years.  Her children, too, had their names marked off in the book.  (Though, while her son's name had been checked off numerous times, hers had, surprisingly, been one of the first hands to mark off the name given to her daughter.  "_Sheila_" had not been as widely used as "_Anne_," or "_Bridget_," or, her own name, "_Shannon_" over the generations.  But it was a name for which the older woman had always had a special fondness.)_

_There was one almost blatantly noticeable pattern inside the book's pages, however, among the many names marked there.  Nearly all were representative of the family's deeply planted Irish roots.  Not completely pedigree, of course, but not entirely outside the realm of similarity either.  _

_With a few obvious exceptions, that is.  This child at the table being one of them._

_When the woman's granddaughter was born, there seemed almost no hesitation on the part of her parents when it came to the naming of the child.  It was a most unusual name and, while very pretty, a somewhat surprising choice.  There hadn't been many names quite so exotic in their family.  And it certainly hadn't come from the side of Sheila's husband either.  From what the woman understood, he had a mixture of Welsh and German in his background.  Though she hadn't thought to consult the family tome as to its specific decent, she had immediately noted the Middle Eastern feel to the name given to her new granddaughter.  _

While the name suited her, over the years, the child certainly hadn't grown into the physical exoticness that it may have implied.  Her parents' fair appearances, coming together in her, had resulted in the girl's rather pastel features – her porcelain skin, dotted lightly with the freckles that her mother never seemed to shed, her pale eyes the color of stirred brine, and her father's flax-colored hair.  She was a beautiful contradiction.  

Now, the girl was pouring over the family's text of names (an action initiated by a school assignment in which she and her class were instructed to research family trees and coats-of-arms over the Thanksgiving holiday.  Sheila had spent part of the day before searching for the book.  She thought it would be a valuable cross-reference in her young daughter's search for the names with which to map out their family tree.)  After a bit of investigating, the youth was finally able to answer the question of her own name's etymology. 

However, the seed of a new question was soon to be planted in her grandmother's brain.  One that would not be answered quite so easily.  If ever.

"Does Mom still talk to Ayesha?" 

The woman looked up again at her granddaughter, her brow furrowing as though she hadn't fully heard the entire question.  

_"Hm?"  She rubbed some of the flour off her hands with the apron around her waist._

_"Ayesha."  The girl, too, raised her face from the work around her and her enormous blue-green eyes conveyed the innocent honesty in her question.  "Do Mom and Dad still keep in touch with her?"_

_Again, the woman thought she hadn't heard right.  Crazy queries as to why her granddaughter might be speaking about herself in the third-person came to mind, and she wondered if she hadn't been so preoccupied with watching the girl work that she had missed some relevant part of the conversation.  Perhaps it was part of a joke which had been told earlier that she had missed.  That was certainly nothing new.  Her son Robert always teased that she '_couldn't catch a punchline with both hands and a head start_.'  In fact, her family's constant need to explain jokes to her was kind of a running gag and she accepted it -- perhaps even played up to it at times.  But this one had her puzzled, a fact that must have obviously shown on her face because the youth before her developed a look of concern._

_"Gram?"_

_"I'm sorry, Ayesha, honey," she said.  "Are you talking about something _you_ did?"_

_The girl grinned again.  Her grandmother hadn't heard her right after all.  "No.  I'm talking about Mom and Dad's friend 'Ayesha,'" she clarified amiably.  "The one they named me for."_

_The grandmother almost seemed to freeze, an even greater look of confusion on her face.  Her eyes were locked in a puzzled stare that didn't seem to focus on anything, as though she was struggling to remember something she had forgotten.  Something that must have been very important, even obvious . . . but something she honestly couldn't recall ever knowing in the first place._

_The girl at the kitchen table must not have noticed because she turned back down to her work and continued on as though it was the most natural thing in the world.  "I asked Mom and Dad about my name for my project and they said that I was named for this friend of theirs when they were young.  I think they said her last name was '_Rahmoud'_ or '_Raymond'_ or something like that."  She trailed off for a moment as she wrote something down in the tablet again, then continued with a slight shrug.  "Anyway, Mom said that she was like a sister to her and Daddy.  And Uncle Bobby knew her, too.  But I don't know if they hear from each other anymore."_

_The woman sank down into the seat opposite her granddaughter, the second mass of bread dough set aside, un-kneaded.  She wracked her brain to think of the girl that Ayesha was describing, but the only person she knew of who had been like a sister to both Sheila and Hank in their youth was Diana Beckett, and that was obviously not the same girl.  It seemed very wrong that she had either forgotten this person with whom the children in her life seemed to have shared such a bond (Lord, she couldn't possibly be getting _that_ old!), or worse, that she had never met the girl in the first place.  She unconsciously raised a dough-covered hand to her mouth and began to contemplatively nibble on one of her nails, her face a mask of bewilderment._

_Ayesha's voice finally broke her out of her reverie.  "Gram?"_

_The woman, Mrs. Shannon O'Brien, sighed and allowed her hand to drop to the table as she raised her eyes to once again look at her granddaughter.  "I'm sorry, Sweetie," she muttered, shaking her head in a helpless gesture but still straining to think, as though the mystery namesake would come to her if she tried hard enough;  mulling over the question that would inevitably plague her for years.  "I'm sorry, . . . but I don't have any idea who that is."_

*          *          *

Ayesha Tennyson sat in the lower city of the ruined Tardos Keep, her forearms resting on her drawn-in knees and her hands making slow, lazy circles around each other.  In her loose grip, twirling unhurriedly with the motion of her hands, was the gilded hilt of her given weapon.  She hadn't thought about that conversation with her grandmother in years.  In fact, in the whirlwind bustle which always seemed to accompany visits to her mother's family home, she had honestly hardly thought of it at all.  Ever.  But now, in the dead calm of this haunted place, where the silence of anxious waiting seemed to close in from all sides like dark water, it had strangely come to mind again.

She remembered something that her Uncle Bobby had told them when they arrived in the Realm . . . .  (Oh, God, had it just been two days ago?)  "_We all had a hard time when we returned home,_" he had said.  "_We couldn't tell anyone because we knew they wouldn't believe us.  All we had was each other.  You'll have it a lot better off than that_."  

The Paladin now knew that there were a great deal of things that her parents hadn't told her about their past.  Things that, now that she thought about it, they probably hadn't told their own families either.  Ayesha wondered if one of those "_things_" was the reason her Gram hadn't known about the girl who Hank and Sheila claimed was "practically their sister."  She wasn't sure.  After everything that had happened, she didn't know if she was sure of _anything_ anymore.  

But one thing was true – what Bobby had said about them having their own families to turn to.  And as soon as this ordeal was over, when they got home, she decided that she would ask about her namesake again . . . .

"What are you thinking about?"

Ayesha raised her head from her seated position to see Varla approaching.  The younger girl had apparently just come from where she had been sitting with her father in the square and Ayesha flashed a bright smile as the Mystic pressed her back against the cracked wall and slid down to join her, pulling her knees in.

"Just about everything that's happened," the Paladin answered with a shrug.  "I still feel like I'm dreaming."

"For some parts of it, I wished I was," Varla replied as she hugged her knees tighter.  Ayesha noticed, not for the first time since meeting the other girl, that this position seemed to be a source of comfort for her.  The Mystic assumed it often.

"We were all really worried about you," Ayesha said, bringing her legs down and out in front of her and holding the sword hilt in her lap with both hands.  "How did you get out of that cave?  And how did you find our families?"

"They found me," the Mystic admitted.  "And as for the cave, . . . well, . . . I guess I blew my way out."

"Wow."  Ayesha grinned broadly.  "I _knew_ you'd get the hang of that wand!" she said in a congratulatory voice, giving her new friend a slight nudge with her shoulder.

Varla grimaced.  "You probably won't be saying that if you ever have to see it in action again," she muttered.  "I don't do well with moving things.  Just ask Presto if he enjoyed being a human yo-yo."

The Paladin chuckled lightly, but was cut off by another voice.  "Tell me you're _kidding_!"  John stood beside a pile of crumbled marble, shoulders slumped and mouth sagging open.  Next to him was Toby, looking as confused as Ayesha felt at the boy's outburst.

"What do you mean '_in action again_'?" the Squire clarified as he marched around the marble and dropped heavily into a seated position across from the two girls.  "You don't really think we have to _fight_ more, do you?"

"How are we supposed to know?" Toby retorted irritably, standing over the boy for a moment before shaking his head and taking a seat, too.  "We didn't exactly get the official word, did we?"

"Right," Ayesha agreed.  "Dungeon Master disappeared before telling us much, so it looks like the only thing we can do right now is wait."

"But we _did_ what he said!" John insisted.  "He said we had to beat the new threat to the Realm and we did.  You know --"  He held up his hands in a karate-like stance.  "-- _Came, saw, and conquered _and all that stuff.  Don't we win a ticket home, now?"

"Uh, news flash, Johnny Boy," Toby drawled, "This isn't a hockey game.  When you win, the other guy's not gonna meet you mid-rink and shake your hand on a job well done!  He's probably going to take one more shot at blasting your face off!"

"You paint a pretty picture," John grumbled with a look of disgust.  "But tell me, Mr. Purple-Man, just _how_ is Mordreth going to come back if we blew him up, huh?"

Ayesha shrugged as she attempted to answer that one.  "My mom said that Venger always came back, even when stuff like that happened to him.  I guess it could happen with these three, too.  Uncle Bobby already said he saw Kadysse again . . . you know . . . _after_."

Toby turned his head to the Paladin, his dark-bronze eyes large in his face as he looked at her.  "After _what_?  What happened with Kadysse?"

Ayesha looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable as she shifted in her seat, her face pensive.  She had known that this topic would inevitably come up once she reunited with her new friends, but hadn't realized just how little she wanted to discuss it until now.  

The memories of how she had faced the Mistress of War, but mostly what the evil woman had done to her Uncle Bobby, came flooding back.  In her head, she could still hear his strained voice as he cried out for her to escape.  In her mind's eye, she could still see him hanging limply from his chains, see the waxen color of his face as he lay upon the cold stone of the Citadel of War, see her father's stricken eyes as he tried to voice the thing that he couldn't bring himself to say.  

That her uncle was dead.  

If it hadn't been for Teri . . . .

Ayesha shook her head to clear it.  She had told Varla that this all felt like a dream, but the truth was, since her standoff with Kadysse, it had seemed too frighteningly real.  The thought scared her . . . .  

Scared her because if Bobby had come that close to dying, what would happen if this was _not_ over yet?  What if the worst _was_ still to come?  She didn't want to think about who else could get hurt, or how helpless she would feel if that happened.

Eventually, when she couldn't stall anymore, Ayesha opened her mouth to answer.  She was quite relieved when Varla, who apparently hadn't registered Toby's question, cut in with her own.

"You blew Mordreth up?" she asked the two boys, astonished.

"Er, _sort_ of," Toby replied, dragging his attention back away from Ayesha and tilting his hand back and forth in a so-so gesture.  "I guess we don't really know for sure.  He vanished in a big, bright flash, though."

"It was awesome!" John suddenly came alive in his description as though the Fighter's explanation was a blasphemous downplaying of the whole event.  "My sword, – you know, the one that I'm carrying around in my belt – well, it _appeared_!  And my dad used it to kick Bonehead's butt, and then his aunt finished him off . . . !" he ranted at practically a mile a minute, shooting his thumb in Toby's direction as he mentioned Diana, and randomly tossing in other details of the adventure (in no particular order) – mentioning the staged "fight" to trick their Orc captor, the falling ceiling (a story which had surprised Toby as well), and their ultimate escape using the Fighter's whip.

Toby began to smile broadly.  He hardly seemed immune to the Squire's feverish excitement.  "Yeah," he added with a playful shove to the boy beside him, "All this _and_ you attempted a full-frontal lobotomy with your medallion, right, John?"

"I think some explaining's in order for _that_ one!" Ayesha announced, undeniably relieved that the topic had shifted from her to someone who actually _wanted_ to relay their adventure.  For a moment, the group finally began to feel like the children they were as they gossiped at length about their exploits.

"I didn't get to see much of what happened," Varla lamented disappointedly as she summed up her own tale.  "Presto didn't take care of Bane until after I got knocked out."  She shot an accusatory glare at the delicate wand in her hand.  "If I'd been able to get this thing to _work_ right . . . !"

"Don't worry," Ayesha assured her.  "Dungeon Master said all it took was practice."

The Squire scoffed rather indiscreetly.  "Maybe you should have started by reading the owner's manual!" he jibed.  "It can't be any tougher than, say, playing a video game!  Just point and shoot!"

Varla cast the boy a sidelong look.  "How many video games have _you_ played that involved severe bodily harm if you don't press the right buttons?"  She narrowed her eyes at him.

John smirked.  "I don't know, Varla," he replied.  "Wayne Gretzky may beg to differ with you there!  I have this one pro-hockey game at home where you can make his head bleed if you press—"

"_Jo_-_ohn_!" his friends droned.  But it was lightheartedly.

Ayesha smiled; a genuine smile.  Forgetting, for the moment, all the hardship that they had been through, all the danger they had experienced.  Because now, they were just a group of children; just a newly-formed group of unlikely friends, joined by a similar past and connected by a strange legacy.  

A legacy that would begin to come to fruition . . . as soon as the Dungeon Master returned.

*          *          *

As Hank had suggested, the Young Ones gathered in the center of the courtyard one hour later.  It had been a long time since they had last seen Venger or Uni.  Their minds were filled with questions, but unfortunately the only thing they could do for the moment was wait.

Eric gave an exasperated sigh.  "This is stupid," he muttered, unable to resist the nagging urge to complain.  "How much longer do we have to sit here?"

"C'mon, Eric," Presto tried to look on the bright side, "How many times did the old Dungeon Master keep us waiting?"

Eric grumbled something under his breath before piping up again.  "Look, all I'm saying is a little info might be nice.  Am I right?"  He turned to the person beside him for confirmation. 

"And you shall have it, Cavalier," a voice boomed from the individual standing there.

"_Yahhh_!"  Eric recoiled from the seven-foot-tall form that was suddenly beside him.  Venger strode past the Cavalier with an amused smile.  Uni followed with the same type of look.  "Why do DMs always have to _do_ that?" Eric muttered at Venger's back.

"Must be a Dungeon Master tradition," Diana teased.  "The many ways to startle Eric the Cavalier!"

"Yeah, yeah!  Well, I can buy into a three-foot munchkin popping out of thin air without being noticed by my keen senses, but _Gargantua_ himself?  That's just sad!"  He lowered his voice as he looked at the Acrobat.  "And I think the unicorn enjoyed that a little too much!"  Diana laughed as she turned away.   Eric shook his head and filed in with the others as they gathered around Venger.  John looked up at his father as Eric came to stand beside him.

"No doubt, my Young Ones, you have many questions," Venger began quickly.  "I hope that this serves to answer them."  He extended his hands and his amulet began to take on a bright red glow.  Soon, his palms glowed with the same aura until a hazy oval of light appeared before them.  The elliptical sphere grew in size as numerous cloudy eddies of magic swirled within it.

Eric scrutinized the luminary vision that had materialized in their midst.  "Wouldn't you know it," he jibed, "Fifty-seven channels and nothing on!"

"Er-ric!" Presto droned as Toby did his best to hold back a chuckle.

No sooner had Presto gotten the word out of his mouth, when the sphere exploded in a burst of light.  The Young Ones averted their eyes as the flash filled the room.  The intense blaze subsided quickly, lessening into a steady glow and leaving behind a shimmering portal.  When the Young Ones were finally able to look, they saw on the other side--

"The amusement park!" Sheila breathed as she gripped Ayesha's shoulders and pulled her closer.

"Whoa, Venge!" Eric said, barely above a whisper himself, "Don't touch that dial!"

The group of Young Ones stared in disbelief for a moment before a communal smile washed over the faces of all of them.  Venger stepped to the side, making a gesture toward the portal, an encouraging smile across his lips as well.  

"What does this mean?" Hank asked.

"W-we can go?" Diana added joyously as she looked from the gateway to her nephew.

"My Young Ones, you have done what was needed of you," Venger announced with a dramatic air, "And the time has come for your repayment."  Uni strode to his side and he gently stroked her mane.  "You may go home," he said with finality.

The group seemed to take a collective step forward before hesitating slightly.  This wasn't exactly an answer to their questions.  This was just . . . an end.  

"Um, Venger?" Eric asked.  He stepped across to the other side of the circle in which the Young Ones had gathered so that he might face the Dungeon Master, pulling John with him and positioning the boy near the mouth of the portal.  _Just in case_, he thought.  "Listen," he said, "Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining or anything.  But I think I speak for everybody here when I ask . . . ."  He made a wide-armed gesture.  ". . . That's _it_?"

Venger nodded once.  "My friends, you were brought here to stop the new evil force that had been sent to decimate the Realm.  Now that that force is gone, you are no longer needed.  You may go with my thanks."  He gave a respectful bow in the Young Ones' direction and stepped away from the portal to allow them full access.

"What do you mean they're gone?" Diana questioned.

"Yeah," Presto added, "Three times more powerful than you, I figured we'd be here three times as long!"

"What's the deal?" interjected Bobby with an incredulous look.  "No morals?  No words of wisdom?"  The Barbarian paused for a moment as he instinctively gripped his club, then met Venger's eyes.  They were cold.  _No, tense.  Perhaps even . . . afraid?_  "No speeches about how we need to leave our weapons here?"

Teri stared from Bobby's profile to Venger's emotionless face.  He was sending them back.  But he wasn't happy to see them go.  Something was very wrong.

"With all due respect, Venger," Sheila smoothed over the barrage of questions and statements of disbelief.  "You just seem to be ushering us out of here pretty quickly."

Eric stepped forward and gripped her elbow.  "Sheila!  Come on!" he whispered to the Thief.  "We did what he wanted and we got what we came for!"  The Cavalier made a gesture toward Ayesha who was standing beside her mother.  "Don't look a gift unicorn in the mouth!"  He brought his eyes up to meet the elegant creature at Venger's side.  "Later, Uni," he said as he tipped his chin upward at her and drew his son closer to the gateway home.

"Wait!" Hank's voice stopped Eric dead in his tracks.  "Venger, what's going on?  What are you not telling us?"

Venger's eyes traveled over the group assembled before him.  His face remained stoical, but his eyes conveyed an urgency that the Young Ones couldn't ignore.  They continued to stand, steadfastly awaiting the answers he had promised them.  Finally, Venger breathed heavily and said, "I have told you the truth, my friends.  Kadysse, Mordreth, and Bane have left the Realm."  He paused, as though reluctant to continue.  "But," he finally said, "They will return.  And you must not be here when they do."

"Why?" Ayesha asked hesitantly, a nervous knot in the pit of her stomach as she did.

Venger turned his eyes down to the young Paladin and the girl felt the need to recoil a step from the severe look she saw in them.  They were a bright and violent red, like pulsing blood.  Ayesha held her breath.  "Because, my child," Venger answered, more gently than his harsh appearance would have implied, "When they come back, they will not be alone."

Ayesha didn't know what he meant by that, but the feeling of her mother's nails digging sharply into her shoulders, even through the chain mail bodysuit that she wore, was enough to chill her to the bone.  She felt Sheila shudder against her back as the woman attempted to find her voice.  "A-are you saying . . . ?"

"Yes, Thief," Venger affirmed gravely, meeting her eyes next.  "When they return, _He_ will return with them.  And you must be gone!"

"Venger, we can't just--" Hank began.

"_NO_!"  Venger almost seemed to roar in a voice nearly reminiscent of the dark creature he had once been.  His eyes flashed as he turned them ruthlessly upon the Ranger.  "I brought you here to restore balance to the Realm -- as is my duty.  Now that the evil triad is gone, _you - must - leave!_"

"But," Diana attempted to pick up after Hank had been struck silent, "If the evil is coming back, won't you need . . . ?"

Instead of casting a heated glare at her, as he had at Hank, Venger turned his scathing eyes inwardly upon himself as he squeezed them shut.  He tangled his fingers into Uni's mane and clutched desperately.  If he was hurting her, the unicorn bore it with no indication.  Finally, the new Dungeon Master spoke again.  "I am a fool," he muttered.  "Forgive me."

"What do you mean?" Presto asked.

The voice that answered him was not Venger's, but Varla's.  "He believes that he's doomed us," she said as though in a trance.

Venger opened his eyes to the glow of the Mystic's wand and mentally berated himself for not keeping his thoughts in check; away from the girl.  He had been right.  Her powers had grown stronger; even during her short time in the Realm, quite possibly without her even realizing it.  However, even a great psionicist would not have needed to probe his mind to find his despair, as he had succumbed to wearing it plainly by now.  He once again regarded his Young Ones before speaking.  

"The role of the Dungeon Master is strictly defined," he began. "We are keepers of great power, keepers of knowledge, and, most importantly, keepers of balance.  There is a universal equilibrium.  It exists in every world found throughout the cosmos."

Eric stood by the portal, listening soberly.  "_Everything touches everything else_," he muttered.  John glanced cautiously up at him.  His father sounded as though he was quoting someone, but the boy thought it best not to ask at this moment.

"Not only is the maintaining of this balance vital in nature," Venger continued, "But the scales of good and evil must always remain equal as well.  This is why you were brought here the first time, my friends.  Too much evil existed in the Realm.  An equivalent amount of pure good was necessary to counter it."

"So if the three that you brought us here to stop are coming back," Diana said, "With reinforcements besides, won't you need all the good guys on your side that you can get?"

"Acrobat, this is where I have failed," Venger responded ruefully.  "I truly believed that the Nameless One would merely send His puppets to subjugate the Realm, as He once used me to do.  However, I have learned . . . ."  He paused as though not wanting to continue.  "I have learned that His plan is to take His revenge . . . upon _you_.  Your return to the Realm was what He had hoped for all along -- and I was a fool for not seeing it."

A collective gasp rose up from the assembled Young Ones.

"Which, as you can see, is why I must send you home," Venger concluded.  "When He fails to detect your presence, perhaps He will leave as He did before."

"I wouldn't bet the farm," Eric muttered.

"Still, it is your only chance," Venger returned.  "Take advantage of it, my children.  There is no telling how long we have."

"What will happen to you?" Sheila asked Venger.  "To the Realm?"

"Perhaps nothing," the Dungeon Master replied with an encouraging smile.  A smile that didn't fool anyone.  "My friends, the time has come.  The time for you to truly return to your home world.  Please go . . . with my eternal gratitude for all you have done here."  As Venger spoke, the portal to the amusement park grew bigger and brighter.  Simply walking through it would finally bring their time in the Realm to an end.  The group of eleven outworlders took a joint step closer to freedom.

"No," Hank said as he suddenly stopped.  "No, I'm not going anywhere.  Not this time."

Sheila spun around to face him, eyes wide with worry.

"Don't you see?" Hank said to all of them, but specifically turned to face his wife.  "If this _thing_ is even half as bad as we all remember, then we won't be safe anywhere."  He shifted his gaze to Venger.  "What if He doesn't leave?" Hank asked.  "Or what if you can't stop Him?  What's to prevent Him from crossing over into our world next?"

Bobby's heart pounded wildly as he listened to the Ranger's words.  "Is that why you didn't tell us to leave our weapons here?" he asked Venger.  "Did you think we would need them?"

Hank shook his head and gave voice to the fact that the majority of his friends already knew.  "Even if we brought our weapons home, we couldn't use them there."  

"They would, however, be out of the Nameless One's grasp for the time being, Ranger," Venger told him.

"Why would He need them?" Presto asked.  "If He's capable of destroying entire worlds, he probably wouldn't need to use them.  I certainly don't think Tiamat would be much of a threat to Him.  If she's even still around, that is."

"The Dragon Queen lives, Magician," Venger informed him.  "But gaining dominion over the Realm is different now than it was over two centuries ago.  A balance existed then that I sought to decimate.  My struggle with Tiamat was never about good and evil, but about power and control.  Your weapons would have tipped the scales in my favor.  Now, however, your power, channeled through your weapons, was the one thing that, when combined, could have prevented the crusade of the Nameless One's new servants.  If His minions had succeeded in procuring them from you, their victory would have been sealed."

"Then why send us hom—?" Hank began again.

"It is too risky, my friends," Venger interrupted.  "While the power on our side is great, it is vital that the balance be tipped in _our_ favor.  Our power _must_ be greater if we are to prevail!  However, now that the Nameless One, Himself, is coming, the game has changed.  Never having faced Him in battle, there is no way of knowing how much energy we would require to defeat Him . . . or if what we have now is even enough."  Venger's voice once again became sternly insistent.  "Better that you seek sanctuary in your own world."

"And wait for old No-Name to find us?  Or our children?  Or our children's children?  No way!" Hank returned darkly.  "I refuse to leave that kind of legacy to my family!"  The Ranger brought his bow up and looked at it as he clenched it tightly.  "_Better_ to face Him in the Realm," he said, "Where we have a fighting chance, than to sit around on Earth, waiting for Him to lay waste to that, too."  He looked down into his daughter's face and cupped it gently in his hand.  Diana had been right.  As a result of leaving the Realm the first time, Hank had a life on Earth that was worth fighting for.  And he would do so now -- to the last.  He raised his eyes again to his wife.  "I need to stay," he told her, his tone resolute and final.  "But you--"

Sheila Tennyson shook her head determinedly as she reached forward and entwined her fingers around Hank's.  She then stepped closer to the Ranger and looked out on the rest of her friends and their children, echoing her husband's sentiment like thunder without saying a word.  Ayesha likewise stepped to her father's side, placing her hand on the hilt of the sword at her belt.

An eerie silence hung in the air of the ghost-like Tardos Keep as the Young Ones digested their friends' decision to stay behind.  The portal remained open and waiting; an invitation to those whose choice would be the opposite.  Suddenly, a voice broke the stillness.

"Dungeon Master?"

It was the first time any of them had used a name other than "Venger" to directly address their new guide.  The name was formed as a question, a plea.  It was quiet, it was respectful, but the strange thing about it was . . . it was Eric.

The Cavalier's face was solemn and earnest as he stared at the creature who he had once reviled and feared; an individual who now had the means of doing the one thing that Eric needed, his only reason for returning to this world.  "Please," he said soberly, "Please, just send our children home."

The answer, however, didn't come from the Dungeon Master, but from John.  "No," the boy uttered, "I don't want to go home."

Eric stood stunned for a moment, disbelieving that these words actually came from a son of his.  He quickly recovered and found an assertive paternal voice.  "John . . . ."

"No, Dad," the youth returned as tears filled his eyes, "I wanna stay here!  I wanna stay with you!  I--I'm your _squire_, remember?  Please, . . . I wanna stay!"

Sheila felt a tender smile grow on her face at the boy's words.  Eric reached out and drew his son in, holding on with all his might.  "I love you, Dad," John sobbed into his father's chest.

Eric then reached forward with his free arm and clasped Hank's hand, his face set as firmly as steel.  "We're staying, too," he said.

Ayesha glanced sideways at the boy who came to stand beside her, a boy who held his head proudly as he waited between her and his father, too proud to wipe the tears that stained his face.  There was a rather strange set of contradictions in the child.  One minute, he could be as sarcastic and arrogant as humanly possible, while the next, he was openly vulnerable.  She remembered his earlier words, declarations uttered just a short time ago that all he wanted was to be sent home.  A smile that matched her mother's ghosted across Ayesha's lips at his sudden change of heart – and the bravery needed to do it.  It was unknown to the Paladin, but not to the adults around her, just how much like his father the boy really was.

Diana took a step toward her friends, but paused, turning a tearful eye toward her nephew.  "Toby?" she asked.

The Fighter marched up to stand beside her.  "Not a chance, Aunt Di," he asserted.  "There's no way I'm leaving."

Diana sighed deeply before trying again.  "Toby, what about your parents?" she insisted as she gripped his shoulders tightly and looked him dead in the eye.  "They love you more than anything and if something were to happen -- they -- they'll never know."

Toby cracked a smile.  "When I was little," he said, "You used to tell me stories about six brave adventurers stuck in a strange world.  The only thing they wanted, more than anything, was to go home.  I also remember a lot of those stories ending with them deciding to stay for one reason or another -- usually to help someone or to help each other.  Since arriving here, I've learned that those stories are true.  I've even found out more about you from Bobby."  Toby took the Acrobat's hands and squeezed them reassuringly.  "I guess what I'm trying to say, Aunt Di, is that from what I know about you from your time here years ago, you wouldn't have gone either.  And I'm with you all the way!"

Diana leaned forward and kissed her nephew on the cheek, smiling proudly as the two took their places beside Eric and John.  She gave the Cavalier a warm look, which he returned.  He reached over discreetly and took her hand.

"Presto," Hank said as the Magician took a step forward as well, "If anybody should go back, it should be you."

"He's right, Presto," Diana affirmed.  "You're hurt."

"Not only that," the Ranger continued, "But you have a new baby on the way.  Not a single one of us here would ever fault you for deciding to go home to it -- and to your wife."

Presto straightened and squared his shoulders, an action that took no small amount of effort given his injuries.  "Can I say something, now?" the Magician asked.  "You guys are right.  There're a lot of important things waiting for me back home.  But for a long time, I never would have dreamed that I could have them.  Who knows, if things had been different I might have still ended up the single, scrawny geek sitting behind a microscope in some isolated back lab.  It was you guys that proved to me that I had worth and it was this Realm that brought us together as true friends.  I love my life back home," he said as he placed an arm around Varla, "And I'll be damned if I ever abandon the people _or_ the place that helped me to have it.  I'm with you to the end, Hank.  For better or worse."

The Ranger gripped his old friend's hand tightly as Presto drew closer to them.  Varla quickly reached up and placed her own hand on top of her father's.  "That goes double for me," the young Mystic announced.  "I wouldn't be happy at all if it wasn't for you.  I'm staying, too."

Presto smiled brightly down at his daughter.  "Besides," he added, "I told you that Maggie understood about the Realm.  I know that she's right here with me."  He placed his hand over his heart.  "And she's gonna make sure I come back!"

Bobby turned to face Teri, clutching her hand tightly as though it were the last time.  "Teri . . . ," he began, but was silenced as the Dreamer placed a finger to his mouth.

"Not this time, Bobby the Barbarian," she whispered.  "This time, where you go, I go."  She silenced any argument by placing a gentle kiss on his lips, then stepped away from him to stand by the others.  Bobby sighed deeply before joining her there.

"Well, Dungeon Master," the Barbarian announced reverently as the entire group assembled with their backs to the portal home, "You've got your army.  Now what?"

Venger looked sorrowfully but proudly at his Young Ones.  He hesitated briefly before making a swift motion with his glowing hand, sealing the gateway behind them.  The fact that not a single one of them glanced back to look at it as it closed was not lost on the mage.  

"He Who Can Not Be Named is biding His time," he said solemnly.  "There is no telling when He will arrive, so we must be ready.  Take the opportunity to rest while you can . . . my pupils."

*          *          *

The blue sphere glowed with a dull light. It seemed brighter than it actually was in the otherwise darkened chamber. Its luminescence cast a half-shadowed gleam on the stern face of the towering man who stood before it. The man gazed at the sphere -- or, rather, into it; a deadened look in his deep, garnet eyes.

He had left the Young Ones in the main square of the Keep, and Uni with them, so he could come here alone.  The last time he had left them it had been without explanation and he hadn't wanted to do that again, especially after the courage and loyalty they had displayed just a few hours before.  But at the moment, they were asleep.  So he left – to do something that he had never done before.  Not in his two hundred years as Dungeon Master of the Realm.

He passed his thin fingers over the illuminated surface of the floating orb before him.  The azure light within pulsed as though it were alive, casting a glow upon his face that, strangely, looked almost like the pale shade that used to pigment his complexion.  He frowned as he looked into the swirling blue depths.

And after a few seconds, he spoke.

"Perhaps I can not be heard from this place," he said quietly into the darkness surrounding him, though his voice still echoed through the dead stillness.  He spoke as if directly to the sphere before him.  "I had imagined that it could be possible.  However, now I am not as certain.  The distance could be too great but, . . . perhaps I simply need to . . . _believe_ it possible."

The imposing mage breathed deeply and raised his head, his eyes cast down the length of his sharp nose into the orb.  "I hold no illusion that I will receive any response, but I needed to come, to tell you what is happening."  He closed his eyes and released his breath.  "And pray that you can somehow hear me."

One hand raised to the glowing red amulet that adorned his cloak and clasped it tightly.  He opened his eyes and spoke slowly and deliberately into the orb.  "I did not predict this outcome, and yet I feel as though I should have. — That you _would_ have.  Our young friends are in grave danger and I cannot help but think it is a peril that could have been prevented."  Regardless of the azure glow that shone there, a darkness seemed to pass over his face like a wraith, as if it had come from within.  "The Shadow comes," he whispered, his eyes fixed in a grim stare.  "I have been given little choice and I fear that time has run out.  There is nothing more I can do now but aid our chosen warriors.  I had only wished . . . ."

He trailed off and released his grip from the glowing pendant upon his chest.  It pulsed with the same, yet alternating, rhythm as that of the orb before him and the lights that both cast upon his face blended with the inner darkness of his despair in a cadenced dance: blue and red, day and dark, life and death.  These things warred upon his features in the stillness of the shadowy room.  He knew that both were coming; the battle between light and dark.  They would meet and clash – and only one would remain standing.  

Which one, remained to be seen.

But before that battle had even begun, he felt defeated; unexplainably lost.  He felt that his reason for coming to this place had been a futile one.  There was nothing more that could be done.  He knew that.  But still . . . he had hoped.  Hoped that the one to whom he spoke was not so unforeseeably beyond his reach.  

He began to pass his hand over the surface of the sphere, to erase its glow and eliminate its pulsation, but stopped, his hand a breath away from doing so.  He looked strangely at it, as though drawn into its depths, and finally spoke again.  Quietly.

"If you were able to hear me, I would tell you that you are needed," he said solemnly.  "The threat is near and the danger is great.  It may prove greater than you had guessed.  Greater than me, I fear.  Greater than us all, perhaps."  His hand hovered a hair's breadth from the surface of the floating object and he closed his eyes.

"Your Young Ones need you.  And --"  He paused.  "-- and your first pupil, . . . he needs you as well."

With that, he finally passed his hand over the surface of the orb, and the glowing died.

*          *          *

Before the dawn even broke, the sky unleashed its fury.  

The attack had come quickly and without warning.  The sudden blanket of gagging smoke made it nearly impossible to see what had even happened.  Teri stumbled her way through her smoldering surroundings calling out to her friends.  The occasional shout back would reach her ears, but she could catch no glimpse of anyone or anything through the dark cloud that surrounded her like a cocoon.  

Coughing, she continued to take shaky step after step forward, driven by the instinctual thought that she would find answers if she just fought onward.  Her hands groped wildly through the darkness, fingers extended like radar searching for contact.  She felt the noxious fumes burn her throat and nostrils as she drew several heaving breaths, mustering the air she would need to cry out.  

"Bobby!?"

No reply.  She managed to make out Hank's voice shouting out an order and Diana calling for her friends to take cover, but no answer to her own cry.  She forced another ragged gasp into her lungs, ignoring the burning stench, and tried again.  "Bobby, where are you?"

She looked up and managed to make out the blurry outline of light beyond a door, which remained obscure through a curtain of smoke and churning dust.  The smog hung like a translucent barrier in front of the opening that she knew must lead outside.  Forcing her legs to stagger straight ahead, Teri stumbled through the smokescreen and pitched forward onto the ground.  As she struggled to lift herself, she found herself beyond the walls of Tardos Keep.  Her ears caught the sound of malevolent mocking laughter joined by what sounded like a cross between a screeching burst of electric energy and a snarling beast.  Her prone form quivered as she lifted her face from the dust.

In front of her was a sea of destruction.  What had once been Tardos Valley was blasted away, leaving only a vast expanse of charred nothingness.  Teri's eyes darted everywhere, filled with indescribable terror, and eventually settled on a still form materializing out of the swirling smoke.

Her shoulders rose and fell quickly with every petrified, shallow breath as she squinted to make out the details of the figure.  As the smoke began to clear, Teri was able to see that it was a person, a man, lying a distance off, directly parallel from her.  She saw that he wasn't moving.  She saw the wind rustle through his shock of sandy blonde hair as it mingled with the dust.  She saw a large wooden club lying uselessly beside the man's still hand.

Teri's heart felt as though it would burst through her chest as it hammered inexorably and mercilessly against her ribcage.  Just when she thought she had seen incorrectly, a renewed cloud of smoke billowed into her line of vision, hiding the motionless figure from her sight.  And yet, she knew.  Knew without seeing clearly or completely.  Knew, as immediately as she had ever known anything in her life, what she had seen.

She had seen death.

Teri the Dreamer screamed; and her cries of anguish merged with the relentless sound of Kadysse's laughter.

Everything blurred into a haze, blackness swallowed her in its embrace and, again, she immediately knew, with biting horror, that she was dreaming.  That realization may have been comforting for some.  A relief.  But not for her.  

Never for her.

The dream pressed against her like icy black water.  She felt as though she was drowning, her own screams filling her ears as razor-cold liquid might stream effortlessly into her lungs.  She fought and struggled through the all-encompassing darkness, clawing to the surface of consciousness like a drowning woman fighting to live.  Waking up was like swimming toward a small and impossibly far off point of light high above the deep tar-colored water that held her down.  And when her head finally broke the surface of sleep, the rest of her body abruptly followed.  

Teri flew awake in a wild panic and cast her eyes about the dim room desperately.  Finding her bearings, and her breath, she looked at all of her friends, who seemed to still be sleeping around her.  Finally, her eyes settled on Bobby and she began to tremble uncontrollably.  She cast a glance out of a window high above and caught sight of an angry, velvet roll of thunderclouds ominously filling the sky.  Teri then brought herself to look at Bobby again, reaching forward with a quivering hand to touch his sleeping face.

Though he had, since they found him, worn an appearance of grit and bravery, now, in sleep, she could see how tired he truly must have been.  His lids were darkened and the entire area around his eyes shadowy.  There was a waxen kind of opalescent gloss lining the creases of his forehead and eye-area and his face twitched slightly in slumber.  Although asleep, he didn't look completely restful, as though still ready to spring into action if the need arose.  His club was a very close proximity to his right hand.

Teri's trembling fingers hovered a breath above his face for a timeless time.  Her head still spun, flashing images from her dream mercilessly through her now-conscious mind.  She gazed upon the young man who had, years ago, become her world, reminded forcefully of how much she loved and needed him.  How bereft she would be if she lost him.  Mixed with the remnants of the dreams, those feelings felt like a hard ache in the depths of her soul; a ruthless pain inside herself.

"No," she panted in a whisper as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut.  "Please, no."

*          *          *

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued…

**Author's Notes:**

Quotes and Random References – 

(From Chapter 12, for those who hadn't spotted them)

Eric's "_The bad guys showed up_" line was adapted from _Buffy_.  ("_Come on, we fight monsters, this is what we do. They show up, they scare us, I beat them up, and they go away._")

"_And on that day, Lister, Satan will be skating to work._" ~ Red Dwarf  (Modified slightly to be more Hank-like!)

(And Chapter 13…)

John's description of his hockey video game was a reference to the movie _Swingers_. ("_I'm gonna make Wayne Gretzky's head bleed for SuperFan #99 over here._")

"_Fifty-seven channels and nothing on_." ~ Bruce Springsteen

Parts of Venger's scene with the "blue orb" were taken directly from one of my former stories.  (It's not plagiarism if you steal from yourself, is it? *G*)

* And, of course, the chapter title was taken from William Shakespeare's _Macbeth_ (4.1).  (Had to get _something_ in there from The Bard!)

If you notice any that I've missed, let me know.  Sometimes I don't realize where certain quotes come from!  They just kinda pop in there.

_Next Chapter_:  Teri broods over her dream and plans to do something about it; Presto conjures something very interesting; Toby has a weak constitution; Venger is off gallivanting; the evil creatures return, and they're not happy campers; and, if that wasn't bad enough, _another_ new threat shows up.  So how come the Young Ones aren't fighting it?

Things are going to get a bit darker from here on, so be ready.  (And bring a tissue if you feel so inclined!  The next installment will be a rough ride!)


	14. Easy is the Descent

**Disclaimer:  **Since its development in 1983, the animated series _Dungeons and Dragons_ has belonged to the following at some point:  Marvel Productions, TSR, Inc., Wizards of the Coast,  Saban Entertainment, (according to rumor) Disney, and possibly even others.  I guess my point is, it does not (nor has it ever) belonged to me.  Oh, well!  This story, however, does!  I hope you enjoy it!

**Rating:  ****PG_-_13 for some language, violent elements, and theft (I shamelessly stole a terrific lyric from a Peter Gabriel song for use in this chapter.  If you're as big a fan as I am, you might just spot it! *VBG*)**

**Summary (in verse):  
**_'Twas the night before the showdown and all through the Realm    
Each of the Young Ones was quite overwhelmed.   
Anxious and waiting inside Tardos Keep,    
They're lucky to get just ten minutes of sleep.   
While Venger wrestles with a dilemma or two,   
Poor Teri just hopes that her dreams don't come true.   
The Ranger tries to get his friends prepped in a hurry,   
And Sheila, the Thief, continues to worry.   
No one is sure when the threat will attack   
And Bobby just knows Psycho-Witch will be back.   
Ayesha looks up to her father and mother,   
While Toby and John try not to fight with each other.   
 As the dawn breaks, Doc Presto paces this way and that   
Just wanting to pull something of use from his hat.   
Varla, too, prays her weapon will (just once) work right   
As the group's interest turns to the upcoming fight.   
Out of nowhere (again!) the DM has gone missin'   
And poor Eric and Di have no time left for kissin'.   
Against peril unthinkable they must stand alone     
And wonder if this time they'll ever get home.   
Of adventures, and dangers, and sights so uncanny   
Those on Earth would never believe . . . except Eric's weird nanny._

**Dedication:**   This one is for my lovely, masochistic friend and beta, EQ, who actually said the "painful" parts weren't long enough.  Thank you, my friend, I'm glad it has passed inspection and is now excruciatingly drawn-out to your satisfaction!  Thanks also to Heidi for your extra help.  I can always count on you!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**_Legacy_**

**_Chapter 14 – Easy is the Descent _**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Easy is the descent into Hell,   
for the door to the dark Dis   
stands open both day and night."

        ~ Virgil

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Teri was still breathing heavily as she made her way up the stone steps of the lower Keep and headed for the immense main doors of Tardos.  Since waking up, the Dreamer had felt as though the walls were closing in all around her and she needed to walk, needed to move, needed to get as far away from that dream as she possibly could.  

As she reached the door, she pressed her head against one of the cool plates of iron bolted around the perimeter of the massive entranceway.  Leaning there, she took a few slower, more deliberate breaths.  She could feel the tickle of several wayward strands of hair, plastered to her face from the beads of perspiration that had gathered on her forehead.  The chill metal of the door felt good beneath her clammy skin.  She remained where she was until she had begun to breathe more normally.  After a moment, Teri reached forward to push the door open.

"Where are you going?" a gentle voice said from behind.

Teri turned her head and saw a shimmery glow on the landing of the stairs, which quickly materialized into Sheila.  The Thief removed the hood that surrounded her head and settled it back behind her shoulders as she became visible once again.  Her face was a mask of concern.

The Dreamer smiled grimly.  "I tried not to wake anyone," she said.  "I'm sorry."

"I'm a light sleeper," Sheila replied.  "It's kind of a prerequisite for being a parent."  She laughed a bit and shook her head.  "Once, when Ayesha was very little, I got up in the middle of the night and walked to the other end of the house because I thought I heard her coughing in her sleep.  It turned out to be a local teenager passing by outside her window.  But when you're a mother you get tuned into those things."

The Dreamer chuckled half-heartedly.  "I suppose your time here in the Realm may have had something to do with it, too."  Teri then sobered and turned around fully as Sheila approached.  The younger girl inhaled deeply.  

"I had another one," she said.  "I thought if I could do something this time -- wait outside, watch for trouble -- maybe I could stop . . . ."  She shuddered as though someone had walked across her grave, then allowed her shoulders to slacken in despair.  "I just couldn't stay in there any more, Sheila.  I couldn't."

The Thief's face still bore a look of understanding worry as she reached the troubled girl.  "What was it?" she asked.

"Terrible," Teri muttered almost inwardly.  "Too terrible."  Her eyes met Sheila's and she trembled again.  "I can't take many more of them, Sheila."

Sheila was quiet as she studied Teri's drawn features.  What she saw there, alone, was cause for concern.  Her brother's girlfriend had always been pretty, even as a ten-year-old child whose face still clung tenaciously to vestiges of baby fat.  But it had always been more than that.  Teri was, quite simply, such a very nice person; fiercely loyal and unreservedly brave, and it was impossible not to like her, even though Bobby had, at first, clutched stubbornly to his opinion that any member of the fairer sex was in some way repellent.  (With Teri, however, that hadn't lasted long at all.  Less, in fact, than would be expected given the young Barbarian's constant insistence that he was disgusted by anything "gushy.")  The Dreamer had a kind of inner beauty that touched all those around her and, it seemed to Sheila, too abundant to be contained on the inside alone.  

She had been right.  Over the years, that inner beauty seemed to have burst, spilling outward and leaving behind a stunning raven-haired young woman, with large round eyes the color of blue, frost-misted glass, and an undeniably refined way of carrying herself (polished further by her semester spent in France a few years ago).  

Now, however, although her beauty was still technically unspoiled, the recent days spent in constant worry and struggle seemed to have taken their toll on her.  She was tired-looking and pale.  Her large eyes, though still bright, were bordered by rings of blue shading and waxy with an odd kind of weary sheen.  Her thick dark hair hung loosely in the band that held it off her face, the occasional tangled wisp stubbornly sweeping across her forehead or from behind her ear.  She looked as though she hadn't had a real night's sleep in days, but Sheila knew that even when the girl did sleep, she would hardly be able to rest.  She wished there was something she could do for her.

"Come on."  The Thief looped her arm through Teri's and squeezed tightly with an attempt at a cheerful smile.  "Let's get some fresh air.  If there's anything to see coming, we'll do it together."  She tried to convey with her eyes the same faith-filled look that she had often used to hearten her friends while in the Realm all those years ago.  That, combined with her maternal nature which was as strong as fire-tested gold, finally got the Dreamer to agree.

Teri grinned wanly and the two women pushed against the heavy door until it opened just enough for them to slip out into the chill morning air.

The dawn was as hazy and dark as had been the evening before.  A mantle of fog carpeted the earth at the feet of Sheila and Teri, forming a ribbon through the winding valley.  It lay heavily upon the ground like a sleeping dragon, unstirred from the lack of breeze to rifle the cold air.  The steel-colored clouds were as thick as blocks and collided with each other overhead as they seemed to sag down claustrophobically close to the earth.  It was almost as though the only thing keeping them from rolling all the way down were the cathedral-high rock walls of Tardos Valley.  

The air was uncharacteristically brisk, but still a welcome change from the mustiness of the Keep.  Teri drew in deep lungfulls of it, strangely comforted by the piercing needles of cold that worked their way down her windpipe as they awaked her senses and helped to clear her head.  The idea that it had not been this cold yesterday, however, immediately darkened her feeling of reassurance.  It was a reminder of what was approaching; the breathless quiet before a tempest that the Dreamer could feel pressing against them.  

Not wanting to venture too far, the two women sat on the first step that led down into the valley below, now obscured by the fog.  At once, Teri could feel the cold stone bite into her legs through the thin fabric of her caramel-brown tights, but she didn't care.  She sat beside Sheila for several long moments in the silence that filled the valley.

"You don't want to talk about it?" Sheila finally inquired of her friend, her voice breaking the fragile quiet like a crisp bell.

Teri shook her head, although she almost immediately began to reconsider, wanting to tell the Thief everything.  Every detail, every horror, every fear that she held within her heart about what might happen.  But the words ceased at her lips, and Teri couldn't bear the thought of releasing them -- not to the girl who had become like a sister to her.  She couldn't burden Sheila with this.

_Why?_ she thought.  _Why have this power if I can't use it to help us?  So far, all it's done is shown me all the terrible things that I couldn't stop from happening.  If only I could--_

Suddenly Teri froze.  She recalled something that she had been told not long ago.  "_You carry your greatest asset with you, Dreamer_," Venger had said to her.  "_It will provide aid when you need it the most_."  Teri pursed her lips in staunch determination.  This dream _wouldn't_ come true!  Not while she lived.  It was a glimpse of a possible future and nothing more.  

Her mind again registered the biting cold of the stone steps beneath her and she welcomed the stinging sensation upon her legs and thighs.  It meant she was still alive – they all were.  And if things were not yet over, it meant they could be fixed; could be changed.  This time, she would do something.  She had to.

"I'll be fine," she finally said to Sheila with peaceful reassurance and an encouraging nod.  "Let's get back to the others."

Sheila smiled and rose to her feet, brushing the dust from the back of her cape and taking a moment to graze the valley with her eyes before turning back to the Keep.  Teri reached her hand toward the Thief and Sheila accepted it.  The Dreamer gave a reassuring squeeze, as if to maintain that she was all right now, and, hand-in-hand, the two women made for the partially open door.

A noise.  

Sheila turned her head at the sound of a faint noise behind her.  It wasn't much more than a light rush of the wind, which had almost unnoticeably begun to rustle the air, or the hiss of air escaping a punctured tire, but it was enough to cause the Thief to turn her head. 

The sight that met her eyes was that of a vine-like whip descending upon her.  Sheila only had time to catch her breath before the sinew wrapped around her waist and pinned the arm that was not holding onto Teri's hand to her side.

Sheila stopped short and Teri suddenly felt an abrupt tug on her arm.  Her fingers seemed to instinctively tighten around Sheila's hand before she even turned to see why her friend had stopped.  As Teri's head came around, a second, and more abrupt yank lifted her off her feet and dragged her backwards along the ground until she finally relinquished her hold on Sheila's hand.

It took a moment for the Dreamer to get her bearings, not understanding how she had come to be face-down in the dust.  When she finally lifted her eyes, it was to the sight of Sheila being dangled above her head, caught and struggling in the grip of a magical glowing chord.

"Sheila!" Teri called out as she scrambled to get to her feet.

"Teri!" Sheila cried in response, her free left arm remaining stretched in the direction of her friend on the ground as she was lifted higher into the air.  In an instant, the tether that bound her swiftly snaked down the length of her arm, encasing it entirely and drawing it tightly to her side.  The Thief kicked and struggled furiously as she continued her ascent into the air.

Teri, with helpless panic in her eyes, followed the chord to its source and found herself staring into the slitted serpent orbs of a dragon-like creature who wore, what she remembered to be, Venger's former robes.  He hovered overhead, encased in a magical sphere of blue energy, emitting the sinew that coiled around the Thief from the palm of his clawed hand.  Teri felt a shudder of fear rush through her.  

The beast's lips curled over his teeth in a mocking serpentine snarl as he glared down at Teri.  He then turned his attention to Sheila, still struggling in the tether that bound her.  Teri watched in terror as what looked to a bright surge of power sped down the length of the chord and surrounded Sheila with its electric energy.  The Thief screamed.

"No!  Sheila!" Teri cried as she took a step forward.

The Thief shakily lifted her head and consciously tried to rid herself of the sea of blackness that swelled in and out of her vision.  "_Teri_," she managed to return, her voice labored and strained as she focused on the Dreamer.  "_Run_!"

Fear widened Teri's eyes before a scowl of determination quickly took its place.  She creased her brow angrily at the creature above her and began running forward.  "Leave her alone!"

The dragon creature snarled at the approaching girl.  "Foolish sentimentality," he hissed as he raised his other hand.  A small dark hole opened in the center of his palm and out shot another magical vine, spearing toward the Dreamer like lightning.

Teri suddenly felt herself pulled to the ground.  An arm draped across her back and a loud clang rang in her ears, almost like the tip of a lance striking a sheet of metal.  "Come on, Teri!" she heard a voice shout and the Dreamer looked up into Eric's smirking face.  She saw that Bane's attack had bounced away after striking the Cavalier's shield.  Eric hoisted Teri to her feet and pushed her behind him, his weapon still raised.  The creature overhead recoiled his attacking 'whip' back into his palm with a snarl and readied another strike as he tightened his hold on Sheila with the other hand.

The dark-haired girl lost her bearings as the world sped up all around her and several things happened at once.  Suddenly a bright flash raced past the corner of her eye as a gilded dart of yellow flame flew toward the tether that held Sheila.  The glowing chord trapping the Thief dulled as the arrow sliced through it and severed the umbilical in two.  It vanished from around Sheila as she limply fell downward.  

In the next instant, Bobby was beneath her.  The Thief dropped into his arms and hung from his grip in only semi-alertness.  "I've got you, Sis," the Barbarian said in a gentle voice as he held her tightly and backed away from Bane.   Sheila managed a weak smile as he made for the door of Tardos.  Hank fired more arrows at the Dark Lord of the Plague to cover Bobby's retreat.  "Take her!" Bobby shouted to the remainder of the Young Ones who had come streaming out of the fortress door.

Toby and Ayesha rushed forward to support Sheila as she lowered her feet to the ground, regaining some of her strength and insisting that she was all right.  Bobby then retrieved his club from Varla and made a beeline back to Hank's side.  It all happened so quickly that it barely registered in the Dreamer's mind until it was all over -- until Eric began pushing her toward the safety of Tardos.  "Come on, Teri, let's move!"

They hadn't gone three feet before violent surges of energy began lighting the sky all around them.  A new threat, this one on the back of a demonic stallion, appeared in the air and added his attacks to Bane's.  Bobby paused to cast a scathing sneer in his direction as he recognized Mordreth.  Hank and the Barbarian were then forced to scatter and Eric tugged Teri back down to the earth, beneath the protection of his shield, as showers of magical bolts strafed the ground below.

"Your time has come, young fools!" Mordreth's deep voice boomed through the canyon around them as he sent a direct blast slamming onto Eric's shield.  The Cavalier's balance wavered, but he remained kneeling upright beside Teri as he got his bearings once more.  He glanced back toward the door of the Keep, scanning the people standing there.  There was one notable absence.  

"Just like the old Dungeon Master," he growled at the missing Venger.  "Never around when you really need him!"

"Come on!" Diana cried to Presto as she brandished her weapon, "We've gotta help!"

The Magician was grateful that he hadn't allowed Diana to bind his arm to his side when she set his ribs.  He yanked his hat off his head with one hand and began twiddling madly over the mouth of it with the other.

"_Abracadabra!  Ala-ker-puff!  
We're in a jam here,  
So just DO YOUR STUFF!_"

The force of what came out of the hat sent Presto stumbling back through the open doors of the Keep.  The surrounding Young Ones turned at a loud screech echoing from the inner hall and held onto each other as a ball of brown and white feathers bulleted past them into the open air.   

"All right!" Bobby shouted as he scrambled to his feet in time to leap away from another blast from above.  "A War Bird!  Way to go, Presto!  They attack evil!"  He shifted a confident sneer from Mordreth and Bane to Presto's manifestation as it uncurled itself -- an attitude that was quickly dashed as the creature revealed itself to be, not a War Bird of the Celestial Knights, but merely an oversized snake with eagle wings.

"Bird _brain_ is more like it!" Eric grumbled with chagrin.  "Way to just slap something together, Dr. Frankenstein!" he called out to Presto as he eyed the chimera that hovered above them.  

"It'll do!" Diana shouted as she got a running start.  Extending her staff, she jammed one end swiftly into the ground and sent herself sailing through the air toward the strange beast.  She landed in a straddle upon its back and dug her heels in to spur it into action.  "Come on, big fella!" she coaxed, "Up!"  The Acrobat wobbled unsteadily as the creature took off higher into the sky and she quickly grabbed onto a tuft of feathers.  She tucked her javelin under her arm like a lance and held on tightly.

"I hope you can get that thing under control in time to _join us down here_!" Eric called after the Acrobat as she and the creature spiraled awkwardly into the air.  The Cavalier refocused his attention on another attack that came from above; one that nearly sent his shield flying off his arm.

"Dad!" John cried as he made a reflexive dash toward his father.

"John, wait!" Varla called after him and took off at his heels.  

The two youths stopped dead as Mordreth suddenly turned his bony head toward them.  A vicious growl sounded from the Dark Lord of Destruction, baring his skeletal teeth as he recognized the Squire.  Mordreth flashed his scarlet bulbs from deep within the crevices of his eyes and Varla's fingers dug into John's shoulder.  "We meet again, boy," the Archmage rumbled.  "But this time, I promise you, you will not be so fortunate."

The two children could hear both Eric and Presto shouting for them to move, to get out of there, but they were frozen to the spot, staring fearfully up at the dark creature above.  John tensed like a cornered dog, clenching his hands so tightly that they shook.  Varla grabbed two fistfuls of his tunic at his shoulder, her whole body quaking as she stared up into the sky.  Mordreth raised a glowing hand toward them and instantly released a surge of blue flame.  

John Montgomery's eyes widened.  He thrust a protective arm in front of Varla and wailed as loud as he could as the protective bell from his medallion surrounded them.  He emitted a frail squeak-of-a-noise when the energy splattered then dissipated upon his force field.  Indestructible or not, this was something that he would _never_ get used to!

The Mystic began to tremble and sweat within the tight quarters of the protective bell beside John.  She managed to hold her ground, however, and looked up to see Mordreth still circling overhead.  He released another ball of energy that crashed uselessly upon the field and Varla, for as stifled and agitated as she felt within the confines of the bell, was just as grateful for its protection.

Violently frustrated, Mordreth turned his attention once again to Eric and Teri, who had tried to make another move for the doors of Tardos.  Out of the corner of his eye, Eric saw the Dark Lord launch a ball of azure fire toward them and he pushed Teri to the ground.  The flaming discharge collided with his shield, staggering him on top of her.

"We've gotta help them!" John shouted at Varla.

The Mystic uncurled one tight fist from the Squire's tunic and drew her wand.  She aimed it at the downed Cavalier and the Dreamer, pressing as hard as she could with a spell to move them out of harm's way.  "It's not working!" she gasped defeatedly as the wand trembled in her hand.

"Try _harder_!" John ordered in desperation.

"Let me out of this thing!" Varla shouted back.  "I can concentrate better!"

Reluctantly but quickly, John mentally lowered his field.  "Make it fast!" he said as he watched Mordreth draw his arm back once again.

The Mystic grit her teeth and squeezed the wand as tightly as she could, this time with both hands, causing it to glow intensely.  As the Dark Lord's attack spiraled to the valley floor, Eric and Teri could feel themselves literally dragged across the dirt and out of the way.  The flame crashed into the ground behind them, sending a shower of gravel and stones raining down upon Eric's shield.  

"Man, that's worse than carpet burn!" he groaned as he and Teri, granted a moment's reprieve, struggled to stand.  The knees of Teri's tights were torn from being dragged along the ground, but otherwise she was all right.  They both were.  Eric took a moment to flash a smile of thanks in the direction of his best friend's daughter.

Varla returned it wanly but looked up in alarm at the rumbling bray of the Nightmare above.  Mordreth circled in for another attack.

"Go, go, go!" John shouted at her, shoving the Mystic toward Tardos Keep and bracing himself for the fierce lightstream that crashed upon his back as his force field raised itself once more.  He looked over his shoulder to see Mordreth fire again, again, again . . . .

Eric got Teri to the safety of the Keep and immediately turned around again to grab Varla and swing her through the doors toward Presto.

Sheila, having regained most of her strength, cried out to those still remaining beyond the safety of the stone walls.  Hank had been trying to occupy Bane, firing arrow after arrow at the glowing sphere that encircled him, driving the Dark Lord down the stairs toward the valley floor.  The last thing they needed was for these two forces of evil to get together long enough to combine their attacks.  While the arrows failed to penetrate Bane's protective field, they at least kept he and Mordreth separated.

Bobby and his club were useless down on the ground, but he did manage to draw Bane's fire between the Ranger's assaults.  He also kept a close eye out, scanning the sky above.  One force of evil was, after all, still unaccounted for.  

_And what about No-Name?_ he thought urgently.  _Where is He?_

"Hank!  Bobby!"

The Barbarian heard his sister over the din of the attacks all around them.  Looking back, he could see that most of his comrades had made it to the safety of the Keep.  Both he and Hank started to back up toward the doors as well.

Eric made a few running steps out into the open again.  "Eric, where are you going?" Presto cried as he tried unsuccessfully to reach forward and grab his friend.  His battered ribs prevented him from stretching out far enough to get hold of the Cavalier.

"I've gotta help him!" Eric called back as he took several more strides toward his son.  Upon seeing this, Mordreth shifted his aim, sending the Cavalier staggering back with a direct blow to the shield.  The Dark Lord distributed his blasts between father and son, forcing John to remain pinned where he was and causing Eric to stumble back two steps for every step forward that he managed to take.  Mordreth's fleshless face twisted into a malicious grin at their struggle.

Strangely, Eric longed for the awkwardness of the sword again.  _One swipe of his own magic directed back at him'd have Bone-Brain laughing out the other side of his face!_  But the Cavalier knew that he would have to get to his son before the silver blade could be of any use.  And their current situation was getting them nowhere fast.

"Fools," Mordreth snarled with satisfaction over the helplessness of their predicament.  "Did I not tell you that you are no match for us!"  His hand blazed forth in a bright ball of energy.

"Hey, Bright-Eyes!  Remember me?"

Mordreth glared up above him in the direction of the voice in time to see a flash of jade-green swipe across his line of vision.  A sudden impact struck his forearm, shifting his aim and changing the course of the spell that he released.  It exploded directly below him and caused his Nightmare to rear and shriek in midair from the shock of the detonation.

Twisting the reigns to get the beast under control and bringing his head around, Mordreth spied Diana changing course and soaring above him astride the creature that Presto had conjured with his hat.  Rage flashed like flames deep within his eyes and he opened fire on her.  The Acrobat veered away from him, tucking her javelin back under her arm and keeping her head low to the creature's back as she drew Mordreth's fire away from Eric and John.  The Archmage pursued her.

The Cavalier ran for his son and grabbed the quaking youth by the back of the collar, dragging him in the direction of Tardos Keep and yelling for Hank and Bobby to follow them.

Diana heard him shouting and, as he neared the doors of the fortress, dodged yet another blast and headed in that direction herself, spurring the flying serpent faster.  Mordreth growled in fury and changed tactics, pulling his Nightmare to a halt and focusing his aim on the Acrobat.  He released his firebolt toward her and Diana jerked her mount to an abrupt stop as the blast exploded directly in front of her.  

A second attack, one she was not expecting, suddenly struck beneath the serpent that she was riding.  The creature shrieked as Mordreth's magic crashed upon its underbelly.  Diana felt her clutch on the serpent's wingfeathers slip as the animal bucked forward in a pained convulsion.  An involuntary yelp escaped her lips as her balance suddenly left her.  She toppled from the serpent's back as the beast spiraled, howling, into the sky and out of sight.

Eric turned his head at her cry and saw her falling through the air to the valley below.  "_Diana!_" he screamed.

Hank turned his attention from Bane without missing a beat and fired an arrow in Diana's direction.  The Acrobat felt herself get caught up by the bolt; the same type of arrow that had whisked both Bobby and Uni from beyond the reach of a metallic colossus years ago.  She flipped around to get a good grip on it as it sailed toward the canyon wall and embedded its tip there.  Diana then lifted herself on straight arms and swung over the arrow shaft like a dismount from the uneven bars, landing in a neat flip on the valley floor.  She risked a look back up at Mordreth before making a break for the stairs leading up to Tardos.  

When Hank and Bobby saw her running, they made for the doors as well, the Ranger turning to fire back at their enemies every couple of feet to prevent the two evil beings from using a combined attack against them as they retreated.  Shouts urging the three Young Ones to hurry mingled with the rhythm of their footfalls on the stairs.  

Ayesha pushed her way forward, desperate to see her father and her uncle safely out of harm's way.  What she saw was Bane launching yet another poisoned whip in their direction as they ran.  "No, you don't!" she snarled hotly and raised her sword.  The beam that it emitted sliced through the tether before it touched the Ranger or the Barbarian as both finally reached the confines of the Keep.  With a snarl, Bane hovered higher into the air and retracted what was left of his whip back into his hand to regenerate it.

Hank placed a hand on the side of his daughter's head.  "Good work, Honey," he uttered with breathless pride.

Self-satisfaction, however, was something that the Paladin would have to revel in later.  She turned her head like a shot back down toward the valley.  "Diana!" she said determinedly.

"On it!" Toby responded as the two stepped to the front.  The Acrobat had nearly made it up the stairs, but that hadn't stopped Mordreth from advancing behind her.  He prepared to strike one final blow as he closed the gap between them.  

"Now!" Ayesha cried as she released a discharge from her weapon that collided with Mordreth's fireball in midair.  The blow staggered Diana, but she continued her ascent up the long stairway.  She suddenly felt a sharp slap around her waist and looked down to see a thin chord of black braded leather encircling it.  Instinctively, she gripped it tightly and was pulled off her feet, up the remainder of the stairs, and through the open doors of the Keep.  Eric quickly stepped in front of her and caught her in his arms, halting her inertia-fed flight.  Toby snaked his whip away from her midriff and gave a sigh of relief.  

"Can't resist the opportunity to show off, can you?" Eric said smugly as Diana found her bearings and backed away from him, smiling almost bashfully.

"Well," she returned, winded, "I haven't met too many _whatchamacallits_ in this crazy world that couldn't be saddle broken!"

Eric folded his arms around her again gratefully, catching sight of Hank out of the corner of his eye.  The Ranger was smiling softly . . . pretending not to notice.

The Young Ones scrambled to close the doors of Tardos and shut out any more attacks for the time being.  "What do we do now?" John asked, still trembling as he nervously fidgeted with the medallion around his neck.  "You don't think they'll just leave, do you?"

"No, Squire," a voice echoed from the shadows.  "That was merely the beginning."  Venger stepped smoothly into view with Uni at his side.

"Well," Eric mused in a mocking tone that had lost some of its reverence from the night before, "If it isn't our towering tour guide!  And just where the heck have you been?"

"I have been doing my part to help, Cavalier," the Mage replied matter-of-factly.

"Oh, _really_?" Eric countered.  "That's funny because I don't recall seeing you out there while we were nearly getting our butts blown off!  And if, by helping, you mean you were rooting for us, you sure make a lousy cheerleader 'cause I certainly didn't see you on the sidelines, either!  Do you have any idea what we just had to deal with?!"

Venger eyed the indignant Cavalier for a moment with little sign of emotion, then almost seemed to actually shrug off the accusations.  "Imagine how much worse it would have been, Cavalier, had the platoon of Orcs that was traveling with them also reached this place."

"There were Orcs, too?" Ayesha pressed.

"A whole platoon?" Presto added, turning to Eric with a raised eyebrow before looking back at the Dungeon Master.  "And you took care of them, huh, Venger?"

Eric grumbled something with a roll of his eyes.

"Let us just say, my friends, that it will take quite some time before they are able to march back here again from the Northern Territory of Keledroc," Venger replied as he cracked a smile.

Eric felt a throwback into a rush of unexplainable adolescent annoyance.  If that wasn't the same stupid condescending smile that the old Dungeon Master would always flash at them he would _eat_ his shield!  Although it had never before been apparent, the Cavalier suddenly noted the family resemblance.  But he bit back any snide comment he had begun brewing.

"So, was that just a first wave, or what?" Bobby demanded as he shifted his glare from Venger to the closed doors of Tardos Keep.  "They've gotta be planning something because not all of them were even out there!"

"And No-Name has yet to put in an appearance," Eric added.

"Thank heavens for small favors!" Sheila insisted, profoundly grateful that they hadn't had to deal with the Nameless One, too.  At least not yet.

"I don't know, Sheila," Bobby said, reading his sister.  "I, for one, would rather know where my enemies are, instead of waiting around for them to pop out of who-knows-where!"

"My pupils, this is far from over," Venger responded.  "Even within the walls of this Keep we are not completely safe.  This fortress is not as impenetrable as it was in the past."

"Maybe we shouldn't wait around here for the second wave," Hank offered.  "Maybe we should do something first before they get the chance to--"

The Ranger never finished his idea.  His words were cut off as a sudden and violent pounding rang sharply against the main doors of Tardos Keep, echoing like a great bell through the main hall.  The Young Ones froze in their tracks, mannequin-like, as their eyes focused on the heavy doors, only imagining what could be happening on the other side.  Then, just as quickly as it had started, the pounding stopped.

They remained still for what felt like a very long moment, as though standing on dangerously thin ice that could give way beneath them at the slightest movement.  Bobby slowly turned his head to face Hank.  In the heavy silence that surrounded them, the Barbarian was convinced that he could hear every rapid beat of his own heart.  Hank nodded slowly and an understanding passed between the two men.  Whatever was outside could not be afforded the opportunity to get in here; to attack them within these closed quarters.  They needed to get out into the open, make their stand there . . . and let it end as it was meant to.

The Ranger and the Barbarian moved forward and made slow inching steps toward the door.  They hadn't gone far when, inexorably, the pounding began again.

Hank glanced back at the others, who instantly knew to get their weapons ready.  Eric lifted his shield and stepped in front of Teri, nodding to Hank and Bobby as they reached the doors.  Placing their weight against it, they felt the rumbling pounding as it pulsed against the wood over and over.  Bobby felt his heart hammer right along with it as he and Hank braced themselves to push the doors open.

And again, the sound stopped.

A thick silence once again filled the air as the pounding ceased and the two men forced the creaking doors of Tardos open.  As the ancient wood swung wide, Hank and Bobby backed up closer to the others, weapons at the ready, and stared at the lone figure who stood, framed by the gaping entranceway – an alluring figure in a midnight corseted gown, as sheer and fine as if it had been spun from a spider's web – and nearly as brief in its coverage.  Her opaquely vermilion hair spilled upon her shoulders, red as blood though haloed strangely with a coppery glow as if from sunlight that wasn't there.  

She could have been angelic, but Bobby knew better.  

Slowly, she raised her head and met his stare with narrowly feline eyes.  "Greetings once again, Barbarian," Kadysse purred as she tossed her scarlet hair.

"I was wondering when you were gonna show," Bobby spat as he raised his club.

"Show caution, Barbarian," Venger warned from somewhere behind, but Bobby's anger had already won out over his rational mind, just as it had often done during his childhood.  He took a step away from Hank and toward the Mistress of War.

The woman in the doorway made no indication that she had heard Venger speak at all.  She raised a finely arched eyebrow at the Barbarian as she drew his gaze, as though she was goading him -- as a sultry devil might, from her perch upon one's shoulder, in trying to make even the greatest sin sound appealing.  

"It pleases me to know that you have been awaiting my arrival," Kadysse returned as her shapely lips curled into a wicked smile.  And she looked as though she meant it.  She _looked_ pleased.  "Our time together was so rudely interrupted earlier."  She shifted her gaze to Ayesha, who narrowed her eyes at the evil woman.

"Oh, you want up close and personal?  You got it, lady!" Bobby announced gruffly as he began marching forward, swinging his club sharply from left to right.  He was unfazed by her charms now; sickened by them, in fact.  She wasn't even beautiful to him.  Not anymore.  That female creature to whom he had foolishly lowered his guard upon their first meeting was no more spellbinding to him now than Venger had been years ago.  And he had been anticipating this very opportunity, himself; the chance to show her how foolish _she_ had been to mess with him.

Hank suddenly caught his arm.  "Not yet, pal!" the Ranger urged.  "We don't know if this is a trick."  His friend's voice was like a knife, cutting through the foggy gray anger in the Barbarian's mind.  But it was not enough.

"We need a way out into the open . . . ," Bobby began as he pulled away from Hank and strode steadily toward the open doors again.

"Bobby!  Think this through!  What if they're--?"

". . . I'll _make_ a way out into the open!" the Barbarian concluded huskily, ignoring Hank's pleas completely.  "Right through her, if I have to."

Kadysse breathed deeply, her ivory-white chest swelling within the confines of her corset.  "So, you have decided to come to me this time, have you, Barbarian?" she hissed beguilingly.

Bobby stopped dead, bringing his weapon down into the palm of his hand with a hateful sneer.  "I think I'm gonna enjoy this," he growled before suddenly raising his club and charging through the doors with a thunderous battle cry.

Hank sprang into action and ran after him, shouting over his shoulder to the others.  "Come on, gang!  Cover him!!"

Bobby reached Kadysse and took a violent swing with his club, one with killing force, one that should have caught her directly in the ribs and reduced her to a crumpled heap on the other side of the canyon.  But when the Barbarian looked up from his swing, the Mistress of War was gone.  The sound of a wild stallion echoed from somewhere above.  Bobby glanced upward to see Kadysse, now astride her Nightmare, sneering down at him with contemptible satisfaction, one thin brow arching high above her amber eye.

"YEEEAAAAHHH!"

Bobby barreled toward her with a roar, racing down the stairs with his weapon aloft as Kadysse, on her Nightmare, shied and danced tauntingly above him.

Hank emerged on the landing outside Tardos Keep, his arrow nocked and ready as he searched the skies for their enemies.  His hunt was short-lived.  The instant the Young Ones left the fortress, Bane and Mordreth came at them from both sides.  

Bane raised his hands, sending a driving wind upon them, keeping them disoriented.  Hank squinted through the gale and took aim at Mordreth before the Lord of Destruction could unleash an attack toward them, too.  He loosed his arrow up into the air, but Mordreth deflected it easily, emitting a loathsome snarl.  Hank fired again, but continuously kept some of his attention on the valley below -- where Bobby had followed Kadysse.

At Hank's second attack, Mordreth wasn't quite so forgiving.  As he deflected the Ranger's arrow with one hand, he simultaneously rocketed his own blast toward the Young Ones on the ground.  Both Eric and John lifted their shields to cover as many people as they could.  What saved them, however, was a larger shield, a dome-like covering, raised when Venger stepped out into the open -- to join his Young Ones in the fray.  

"Venger!" Mordreth growled.  "You are fighting a losing battle.  As I have told you, you are all doomed!"

"As I have told you," the Dungeon Master returned with defiant fire in his crimson eyes, "You _shall_ be defeated!" 

Teri, not at all listening to this exchange, watched helplessly from behind Eric's shield; watched Bobby take after the Mistress of War all alone.  The wicked siren occasionally dove low enough to allow the Barbarian a swing, but would always climb higher as he reached for her with his club.  She kept him chasing her like a cat with a ball of string, never permitting him a clean shot.  At one point she turned and fired upon him.  The blast caught Bobby at the base of the feet, sending him flying back.  The blow wasn't serious, but it was enough to feed the Barbarian's fury as he scrambled to his feet and took off after her again.  Kadysse cackled at his advances and pressed onward, dancing mockingly across the angry pewter sky.

_She's leading him away from us!_ Teri realized.  _But why?_  She froze in pure horror as she remembered her dream.  The chaos.  The vicious laughter.  The solitary figure laying motionless in the dust . . . .  _Oh, my God!_

In desperation, Teri clutched Eric's shoulder.  Someone had to get out there -- had to help Bobby!  "Eric!" she pleaded.  "Eric, we have to do something!"

Venger lowered his protective field long enough for Hank and Ayesha to attempt shots at the remaining two Dark Lords.  It was also long enough for one of Bane's strikes to infiltrate the group and crash upon Eric's shield, yanking his attention away from Teri's frantic pleas.

Down in the valley, another blast from the Mistress of War sent the Barbarian stumbling back.  Now, she almost seemed to be driving him back in the direction of the stairs.

"No!  Bobby!  Eric, you have to help him!" Teri screamed as she shook at his shoulders urgently from behind.

"Teri, take it easy," the Cavalier tried to calm her.  "Bobby will be okay."

"NO!" she screamed again.  "You don't understand!"  Memories of her dream flooded her head and the girl was in near-hysterics.

"Teri," Eric eased for a second time, while trying to keep his attention on his shield, making sure it was raised as Venger, again, lowered the protective dome.  "Bobby can take care of himself.  You just stay behind me."

Eric was focusing so much on the battle in front of him, that he never expected the shoving blow from behind.  Never expected to see the ground rise abruptly up to meet him.  And never expected to see the Dreamer hurdling his prone form as he lifted his face from the dirt, and make a beeline down the stairs toward Bobby.

"Teri!" Eric cried, "Stop!"

Hank looked up at the Cavalier's shout and saw Teri racing down the stone steps.  "Scatter, everyone!" he ordered.  He fired an arrow toward Mordreth and the Dark Lord banked away from the blast.  "And keep them apart!" he added.

Eric scrambled to his feet and cast a scathing look at Hank as the Young Ones dispersed in all directions.  "You want us to do _what_?" he yelled over the din of explosions that had begun to echo all around them.

"Don't let them get together!" Diana called back.  "Or do you want a combined attack in your face?"  She vaulted purposely far to the left, trying to get Mordreth's attention away from where Bane had begun advancing upon the other half of her friends.  In the process she shouted something to Toby, who joined her.

John gripped Varla's arm and pulled her back from the edge of the staircase, ready to raise his barrier to cover them both if needed.  The Mystic clutched her wand fiercely with both hands, praying that it would work correctly when the need arose.  She aimed it brusquely in several different directions in a desperate attempt to decide how to best use the weapon.

Sheila, almost instinctively, yanked her hood up and headed straight after Teri, in the direction of her brother.

Eric, torn between racing after the Dreamer, himself, or staying behind to shield those who remained, stood frozen for a moment amidst the fray.  His first instinct was to follow where his son had gone, but the boy did have a protective barrier of his own.  

His mind was almost instantly made up for him as a sudden jarring shock rammed into his partially raised weapon, refocusing his attention on the battle going on around him.  A blinding hail of yellow fire streamed through his peripheral line of vision and toward the attacking Mage as Hank and Ayesha did their best to draw the creature's fire.  Presto ducked within their small huddle and Eric backed up to shield them all as the Ranger and the Paladin continued launching numerous shots toward the Dark Lord of the Plague.  

"_Scatter_?" Eric snapped as a sickly green projectile, a flaming toxin, splattered against his weapon.  The remnants of Bane's attack dispersed through the air like poison dissolving through water.  "Separated.  Yes, we are _definitely_ in a better position now that we're _separated_!  I'll tell you, Ranger, you must have written the book on spontaneous-decision-making-in-an-emergency!"

The Ranger took aim around Eric's shoulder and loosed another arrow, the flame of which reflecting like a flash in his eyes; eyes that had gone dark with concentration.  He turned them upon Eric as the Cavalier deflected another strike against his shield.  It had been years since his raven-haired friend had questioned one of his decisions.  "Look, if _we_ stay separated, _they_ stay separated!  We have to keep them away from each other!" Hank called out.  "Three times worse than Venger, remember?  If we let them combine an attack on us, that'll be it!  I'm sorry if you thought it was a stupid idea!"

Eric ran around to Hank's other side to ward off another blow as Bane changed his position in the air.  Ayesha took her turn, then.  She locked her elbows and fired, hitting head-on the protective orb in which Bane had sealed himself to keep return fire at bay.  His lips twisted into a reptilian grin, observed as her blast dissipated against it, sizzling out like a torch thrust into a murky fountain.  She scrunched up her face in a fierce aspect of frustration, her freckles standing out shockingly against her lividly pale skin, and ducked down as Eric readied his shield for Bane's fiery response.

"I didn't say it was stupid," Eric grunted, holding his ground under the blast and retorting as though this was the most natural conversation to be having at a time like this.  Then again, this was only one of many conversations they had often had at times like this.  "Just unoriginal.  Stripping Presto to his boxers and charging a fee for them to watch while he danced like a dervish!  Now, _that_ would have been—"

"_That_ would have been stupid!" the Magician finished for him from behind the Paladin, scandalized as he looked around for his daughter who was, thankfully, well out of earshot.

Eric smirked at him a split second before the next attack hit his shield.  "But it would have been original!"

*          *          *

Teri hadn't imagined herself capable of running so fast.  Bobby, he was the athlete.  But by the time the echoes of magical blasts began resounding through the valley, she had already made it halfway down the long staircase.

She skidded to a halt briefly amidst a shower of gravel caused by one of the explosions, her arms crossing over her face to shield it.  She felt a sharp pain sear across the space below her right eye and she reached up to touch it, coming away with reddened fingers.  Some flying debris had cut her cheek.  Under the hail of dust and grit swirling around her, Teri had nearly tripped backwards over the stairs on which she stood.  She managed to hold her ground and direct her vision back to the valley floor until her eyes found Bobby again.

He was still pressing onward, after his enemy.

The charred clouds overhead swelled and rolled like waves on a frenzied ocean.  The wind that hand been absent not long ago had picked up and was now steadily churning the violent opaque pall into a mixture of black and silver.  It swirled as if a whirlpool of molten steel above the valley.  Just ahead, reveling in that chaos, was the Mistress of War, easily spotted by her flaming red hair which billowed up and outward and resembled a splash of blood against the coal-darkness of the sky.

"Bobby!" 

The Dreamer tried to call to him from where she stood.  If he would follow her back up the stairs, they could join the others at the top.  Perhaps the safety that numbers provide would be enough to halt the event of her dream.  Perhaps just getting him away from Kadysse would do it.  But try as she might, he didn't seem to hear her.

_Keep going!_

In a violent and vivid burst within her head, Teri caught another flash of the dream.  The destruction, the prone figure, the laughter . . . .

_Help him!_

She cried out again.  But, again, the wind seemed to steal her voice, carrying it instead into the lofty spiral above her to add to the tumult of the churning heavens.

_Run!_

She didn't try calling to him again.  

Instead, she ran. 

*          *          *

Kadysse had pushed Bobby to the base of the stairs, her eyes flashing maliciously.  The Barbarian grew more and more enraged by his inability to reach the woman, to make her pay for everything she and her companions had done, for being the reason that they were all brought back here in the first place, the reason that Teri was forced to—

"Bobby!"

Bobby saw Kadysse's vision shift to an area behind him at the sound of the voice.  He quickly spun around to see Teri swiftly nearing the bottom of the stairs.  Another sound, a surge of power from above, caused him to turn back in Kadysse's direction, impulsively raising his club.  The blast that was instantly upon him ripped the weapon from his hands and drove him to the ground.

"Bobby!" Teri screamed again as she reached him, falling to her knees and clutching at the leather straps at his shoulder, trying to move him.  The Barbarian groaned, seeming stunned and disoriented but not terribly hurt.  His hand groped in front of him for his club.

Teri's head shot around, casting a look over her shoulder at the demonic woman whose hand glowed with violent fury.  The crackle of the flaming magic danced insanely in Kadysse's eyes.  

"I made you a promise when last we met, Barbarian," she said, her voice low and foreboding.  "Be it _for_ me, or _against_ me -- you die."  

Teri's eyes grew wider and wider as she jerked back toward Bobby, shaking his shoulder in panic-stricken urgency, trying to get him to move.  The Barbarian managed to lift himself onto his forearms and shake his head to rid himself of the cloudy daze that filled it.

"The time has come to fulfill my vow," Kadysse sneered.  "Farewell, . . . my brave one!"  She curled a corner of her mouth upward, and released.

"_NOOOO!_"

The scream seemed to resound through the canyon, bouncing off the high rock walls of Tardos Valley and quite possibly reaching the ears of Heaven with the anguish that it carried.  Bobby froze, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he no longer felt Teri at his side.  He abandoned his search for the club and quickly turned in the direction of the tortured cry.

Teri was standing above him, her back to him, bravely facing Kadysse.  Bobby managed to scramble to his knees and turn himself around.  "Teri!" he shouted, "Get—"

But Bobby noticed something . . . something strange . . . something that made a tremor rush through him.  Kadysse . . . she was just hovering there . . . and _smiling_.

The Barbarian rushed instantly forward, driven by something unknown to him, an awareness beyond conscious thought, and shot to his feet beside the Dreamer.  She was still staring straight ahead -- up to where Kadysse looked back with a strangely pleased expression -- but she didn't acknowledge his presence.  For the first time, Bobby noticed a thin line of blood beading from the fresh cut high up on her right cheek.

"Teri?" he asked in a whispered voice that sounded as though it had dried up in his throat.  His stare fixed unblinkingly to her profile.  But her face never turned to look at him, her demeanor never giving any indication that she had heard him speak.  The strong wind had died down to a light current and was now merely ruffling the wispy flyaway strands of black hair that framed the sides of her head.  There was something strange and distant about her aspect.  Teri's face was set in glowering defiance, but her eyes—

They were completely languid.  Glassy.  And nearly a shade darker than Bobby knew them to be.  He said her name again, this time reaching out to touch her.

And this time, she moved.

But there was no glance in his direction, no sign of relief that they were both still in one piece.  She didn't speak to him and she didn't return his touch.  She did, however, take a small, staggering step back.  Bobby stood ready to steady her, but was considerably less prepared for what met his eyes when he did.  

As Teri stumbled, Bobby's touch on her right shoulder caused her to turn flaccidly toward him.  And the young man felt as if a set of frozen iron bands had clamped tightly around his heart.  Below her left shoulder was a mark, a rapidly widening mark.  One that was lividly crimson.  One that caused the color in her shirt to darken against the increasing paleness of her skin.  As it spread, it seemed to take her power to stand with it.  The Dreamer hovered for a moment in that grim, slow pocket of time between standing and collapsing, then suddenly stumbled against Bobby's chest.  He instinctively shifted his weight to catch her and gathered her close.  

Close to where he could now see the extent of what had happened.  

The lancing-point of the blast looked as though it had driven straight into her upper chest, as swiftly and cleanly as a bolt of lightning might pierce a thundercloud.  The consequent peripheral energy, however, had left scorches along the entire area of her left shoulder, where the clothing was now torn and blackened, and had seared upward to her neck, leaving burning claw-like marks raked across the girl's white skin.

Furthermore, although it went unnoticed, her heart-shaped pendent . . . was gone.

Bobby never blinked, barely even breathed as he pulled her closer into his arms to support her wilting boneless form, as if this could pause time; hold her together.  Her head lolled back slightly into his hand and the Barbarian's fingers instinctively tangled themselves into the disheveled ebony hair.  

And in this closeness, this proximity that could have been an embrace, but wasn't, their eyes finally met.

It was there that Bobby finally saw something.  Though her body continued to slacken in his grip, her arms drawn in limply between his chest and hers, the dark liquefied torpor in Teri's eyes suddenly sparked with cognition.  Whether or not she knew what had happened was unclear, but as Bobby's huge unblinking eyes searched hers, he could see them widen with telltale signs of fear and pain.  He stared back into her face in hopeless and breathless horror as her glassy orbs shuddered with trace hints of panic – for both herself and for him.  A frail whimper escaped her throat as her right hand moved weakly to latch onto one of his leather chest straps and began to tighten in a fitful spasm.  

The two remained locked that way for a frozen eternity, until finally, and without preamble, without even a word, Teri's grip loosened and the blue eyes before Bobby slowly flickered and shut.

No.

The Barbarian sensed an icy rush spreading through his chest and into his stomach.  He felt dazed, nauseous, and dizzy as he was dragged leadenly back down to the ground, not from Teri's weight, which was strangely paper-light and hollow, but from his own.  He sank to his knees.  It was against his own volition, but his legs had simply given way beneath him.  His power to stand was gone.  

_Teri?_

He tried to whisper her name, but found himself unable.  He couldn't speak, he couldn't even scream.  Any sound he might have made had long since shriveled into a dried rasp in the back of his throat.

_Teri?_

Bobby trembled wordlessly for what seemed like an eternal moment, cradling the girl in his arms.  There was a moistness on his hands that he immediately knew to be the blood running out from under her body.  The air smelled metallic as the thick red liquid merged with the dust on the valley floor and the Barbarian could taste a bitter copper in his mouth, where he had unknowingly bitten his lip.  He reached up and touched Teri's face, trying to coax warmth back into her skin through his fingertips.  All he succeeded in doing, however, was leaving flecks of blood upon the pallid skin where he touched her. 

Bobby's heart jolted and he began to convulse violently as he tried to, finally, force words out, his voice weak and small.  

"Oh, _God! _. . ._ Jesus! _. . . Somebody . . . somebody_, help me!_"  

He never even noticed Kadysse retreat higher into the air and turn back to watch from a distance with perverse satisfaction.

The sound of running feet slowed considerably as it neared him, but Bobby was still oblivious, consumed by shock.  A gentle voice whispered from somewhere overhead.  ". . . _Teri_ . . . ."

The Barbarian raised his head, his body still a fitful tremor and his eyes like dark pools of faraway water.  In front of him, a soft shimmer of silver light appeared as Sheila slowly removed her hood and fell to her knees across from her brother.  Her hand reached forward and hovered a breath away from Teri's face.  She then clasped it tightly across her mouth as tears began filling her eyes.  

"Oh, _God_."

*          *          *

When the Young Ones had scattered to escape the attacks of Bane and Mordreth, they had done their best to hold their ground while keeping the evil forces divided.  When the wind unexplainably changed and died down, some of them found themselves separated further, driven toward the stairs by the magical bolts that continued to rain upon them from above.  It was they who found Bobby and Sheila, first.

Hank made for his wife the instant he saw her sink to the ground.  It wasn't until he reached her that he realized why.  She looked up at him with a tear-stained face, her eyes pleading -- as if he could do something -- as though he had some magic that could fix this.  Bobby was struck dumb, wordlessly hunched over like a waxen statue, colorless and motionless.  Hank reached down and found his wife's hand.  Then he, the one who Sheila believed would always help them make it through anything, could only manage a whispered and unbelieving, "_Oh, no_."

Diana and Toby ducked away from a blast that exploded beside them, nearly running straight into the midst of the huddled group.  Presto stumbled close behind and almost bumped into Diana's back as all three stopped dead at the morbid sight before them.  After a brief moment of shock, Diana fell to her hands and knees and scrambled over to Teri's side.  "Oh, my God.  Teri?  Teri, can you hear me?"  She placed her hand gently on the Dreamer's uninjured shoulder.  This finally succeeded at snapping Bobby back into alertness.

"Presto!" he said, almost like a command as he glared up at the Magician, his eyes like the lambent flickering of a dull flame.  "You've got to do something!"

Presto searched for words.  He wasn't sure if anything _could_ be done.  "Bobby, I--"

The Barbarian's eyes were suddenly alight with rage, the dull glint exploding into a rampant blaze.  He started to stand and Sheila and Diana reached forward gently to hold onto the limp Dreamer when he did.  "Don't give me that!" Bobby growled as he marched around Sheila toward Presto.  "Don't you _dare_!  You're a doctor, damn you!"  He made a grab for the collar of the Magician's robes, yanking the older man toward him.  He lowered his face inches away from Presto's, his voice low and dangerous.  "Now you _do_ something, or so help me . . . !"

"All right!" Presto replied as he pried himself loose, raising his hands in defensive alarm and taking a step back.  "Okay, Bobby, I'll try!"  He turned his head down to Diana.  "Help me get her inside."

The Acrobat nodded affirmatively, looking up at her nephew.  "Toby!  I need you!"

The boy remained standing back from the group, his stare fixated on Teri's face; the bloody fingerprints that stained it, the brutal injury to her shoulder, the increasing circumference of liquid crimson that soaked her once-blue tunic.  His own face was as ghostly pale as his dark complexion would allow.  Toby's head snapped up when Diana called his name again, his mouth dry and his head spinning.  "A-Aunt Di," he muttered weakly, his hands raised in a helpless gesture, "I--I don't think I ca--"

"_Now_, Tobias!!"

Without another argument, Toby scrambled to Teri's side and shakily helped Diana lift her off the valley floor.  He struggled to keep his knees from buckling at the sight and smell of the blood as the two made for the steps leading to Tardos, Presto quickly following behind.  The Magician paused for a moment after climbing two or three stairs and looked back at Bobby – then at the bloodied coil upon the neckline of his robes where the young man had grabbed him and violently wrenched the fabric.  

Dr. Preston Myers was not certain he could do anything for Teri, but he was strangely convinced that the Barbarian would have choked the life out of him if he hadn't agreed to try. 

*          *          *

The tumultuous fury of the heavens had altogether ceased.  The wind had died to a steady, cold breath.  A cool blanket wrapped the earth, the kind that can make a person's flesh crawl as their body chilled to the bone.  The great waves of clouds still consumed the skies like a frozen swirl of black and silver paint, but they no longer churned and collided violently together in a blustery gale.  It would have seemed that the storm was over, but it had only just begun.  For the storm was no longer in the skies.

The current turmoil was now in Tardos Valley, itself.  

And with this new tempest, it went unnoticed when both Bane and Mordreth abruptly ceased their onslaught and ascended higher into the sky, coming to rest on either side of Kadysse . . . watching.

*          *          *

Toby and Diana had made it to the first landing in the stairway when Ayesha met them.  The teen's eyes widened in horror as she struggled to run alongside of them.  "Teri!  _Teri_?  Toby, is she okay?"  

The Fighter didn't answer.  He didn't exactly ignore her, but he could only focus on making sure _he_ didn't lose it right now . . . even if he had known what to say.  He simply shot a quick, haunted glance at the young Paladin as she jogged to keep up.

When they reached the top of the stairs and headed for the open doors of the Keep, Eric quickly rushed over to them.  "_Good Lord_!" he breathed suddenly as they passed, his eyes huge with dread.  The Cavalier had seen them carrying someone's inert form up the steps, and noticed that that someone had appeared hurt, but Eric had never imagined it being quite so bad.  

And Teri . . . .  Good God, she had been right behind him.  Why didn't she stay _behind_ him?  Behind the protection of his shield?  And why hadn't he followed her immediately when she ran?  The Cavalier felt ill.

"What can I do?" he called after them, his voice hoarse.

Diana paused momentarily to look at him, then at the valley floor.  Her eyes were dull embers.  "Get down there," she said flatly.  "I think they're going to need you."  And she turned and vanished, with Toby, Presto, and Ayesha, through the doors of the Keep.

*          *          *

Bobby turned his head to the evil trio in the sky, bent down to pick up his club, and began marching steadily toward them.  Hank grabbed the young man's arm.  "Don't, pal," he warned.  "Getting yourself killed won't help."

Bobby fixed a scorching glare on the Ranger as he wrenched his arm free of his friend's grip.  He suddenly felt unmitigated contempt for his leader's petty reasoning and his eyes darkened with rage.  "Don't try to stop me, Hank," he snarled, his voice as thick and cold as a glacier of ice.  The young man was visibly a taut bowstring, looking as though he might snap at any moment.  He turned away again and made a few more deliberate steps forward.  

The Barbarian again felt a hand on his shoulder.  This time, there was no warning.  He spun on his heel, striking out like a cornered animal and releasing his fury all at once as he sent his club sailing through the air.  Hank could only emit a surprised strangled cry as he felt himself being sharply tugged back by the belt of his tunic, the Barbarian's club soaring just an inch past his face.  

The Ranger tumbled backward and Sheila grunted as he landed on top of her.  Her head snapped back from the jolt of pulling Hank to the ground and, as she looked up, her eyes met the smoldering fire within those of her brother.  She stared, horrified.  They were dark, vacuous, empty -- almost as though he suddenly didn't recognize her . . . or Hank.  

"Bobby!" she pleaded.  "Please, Bobby!  It's us!"

"Keep away from me," the Barbarian warned in a voice lower and more dangerous than she had ever heard before.  His normally crystal-blue eyes were nearly black in color now and he glared down at his family as one might an enemy.  Pressure like a shriek of panic pounded within Sheila's head.  

"Keep away from me," he repeated, "Or I swear to God, . . . I'll kill you."  

That cut Sheila deeper than any sword.  Her hand closed spasmodically on Hank's shoulder, her fingers digging in.  _What was happening to him?_  The Thief was utterly terrified.

Another appearance from behind got Bobby's attention.  He turned his head to catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye, then swiftly struck out again, whirling his club over his head with a thunderous cry and bringing it down hard.  This time, the weapon made contact, but luckily Eric's shield had been raised -- although the Cavalier could swear that he felt his teeth rattle from the force of Bobby's blow.

"_What the hell are you doing_!?" Eric demanded, startled and trembling, not sure if it was from fear or from the bone-jarring aftereffects of the Barbarian's attack.  Perhaps it was both.  "We're just trying to help you, Bobby!"

Bobby sneered.  He actually sneered . . . _wickedly_ . . . at Eric's words.  

"You!" he spat.  "Where were you, oh, valiant protector, when _she_ needed help?  Huh?!?"  Eric backed away quickly as the Barbarian swung at him a second time.

"Dad!" 

Eric turned his head at his son's cry to see John, Varla, and even Uni running toward them.  He kept his shield raised against Bobby as he lifted a hand to stop them in their tracks.  "_STAY BACK!_" he shouted.  The children froze and Eric turned his attention back to the Barbarian.  The unicorn whinnied desperately to get the attention of her friend; once, her closest companion.  But the young man ignored her as though she wasn't even there.

"You know, if she dies," he continued, taking another threatening stride in Eric's direction, "If she dies, it'll be because of you!  And I'm going to enjoy making you suffer!"

Eric swallowed hard to moisten his dry throat as he stared into the eyes of the child he once knew; the eyes of the tow-headed boy to whom he had often entrusted his life while in the Realm; eyes that had been dulled by pain, filled with violent rage through loss, and drained to emptiness by . . . something else . . . something dark.  

"_You're crazy_," Eric murmured, scarcely in a breath.

The Barbarian raised an eyebrow with a vicious grin.  "Care to see just how much?"

*          *          *

In the sky above, the evil triad watched with an air of triumph.

"Well done, Kadysse," Bane hissed as the Mistress of War lifted her chin with pride and glared exultantly at her handiwork. 

"Agreed," Mordreth said.  "The young Barbarian will finish our Master's enemies for us."

Kadysse emitted a dusky laugh.  "I knew he would be mine," she said, her amber eyes scanning the scene below with satisfaction.  "It was merely a matter of finding the proper . . . incentive!"

*          *          *

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued…

**Author's Notes:**  The opening epigraph is adapted from Book VI of _The_ _Aeneid_ by Virgil.  Lines 191-194 of the actual poem read:

The gates of hell are open night and day;  
Smooth the descent, and easy is the way:  
But to return, and view the cheerful skies,   
In this the task and mighty labor lies.

Unfortunately, as appropriate as both versions are for this chapter, I cannot claim ownership of either.  They are both attributed to Virgil, himself.


	15. Mind Storm

**Disclaimer:** Since its development in 1983, the animated series Dungeons and Dragons has belonged to the following at some point: Marvel Productions, TSR, Inc., Wizards of the Coast, Saban Entertainment, (according to rumor) Disney, and possibly even others. I guess my point is, it does not (nor has it ever) belonged to me. Oh, well! This story, however, does! I hope you enjoy it!   
  
**Rating: PG-13** for some language and violent elements 

**Notes:**  Well, it's nice to be back again!  (I never meant to be away from writing for so long.  Talk about withdrawal!)  Thanks to everyone who wrote to me with encouragement and kind words during my unplanned hiatus.  It's nice to know that so many were eager to see the story continued.  I'm glad I can finally deliver for you!  If any are interested, I've set up a LiveJournal account with which I plan to document updates to my story, post excerpts and fanart (the few that I have are certainly worth a look), and plan out future writing endeavors (D&D or otherwise).  There are still a few chapters left, so stop by and see me!  I just love getting company!  *VBG*  

(When I posted the address here it showed up as invisible, not sure why. So see my Author's Page!)

**Dedication:**  To my brother Tom, United States Marine Corps.  I'm proud of you and I love you!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

****

**_LEGACY  _**

**_Chapter 15 – Mind Storm_**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

_The earth moves where I stand.    
I feel the turning of the wheel.  _

_            ~ Alain Boublil & Richard Maltby, Jr_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_He_ _had never felt more like a helpless child than he did at that moment.  It was a feeling that he loathed almost as much as he hated the evil creature who had lowered him to it.  Hiding the hopeless misery that flooded through him was a near impossibility, so he opted to cover it with rage._

_That was decidedly easier._

_But it had not gone unnoticed by those around him._

_Not for the first time had the child's actions and words worried the others.  But more so now than ever before._

_Here, in this barren place, they were granted a slight reprieve from the torturous battle they had chosen to wage.  But the Young Ones were now afforded the chance to indulge in something that was, in a way, even more agonizing.  They were able to think._

_Hank, for once, had allowed the spontaneous gut of his anger to do the deciding for him.  It wasn't something he was proud of, but events had been set into motion that were, now, too late to change.  He would live with that.  He would have to.  _

_Of an even greater concern, however, was how the ten-year-old boy would cope with the choice that Hank had made.  It was already costing Bobby so much – Uni, his best friend, was dying._

_The Ranger glanced piteously down at the child, who was quaking with fury and sadness as he tenderly stroked the small animal which had come to mean so much to him.  It wasn't long ago that they had all been huddled within the confines of that dark cave where Venger, their enemy, had sealed them.  But at the time, there was still so much adrenaline in the air, and not much opportunity to drive from anything other than instinct.  _

_Now that they had been transported here, to the Dragon's Graveyard, they had little to do but sit back and wait for the Dragon Queen, Tiamat, to make good on her promise of delivering Venger to them.  The full enormity of what was about to happen engulfed the Ranger.  _

_They were going to destroy Venger -- for good._

_He had to admit, much of what had happened, from Venger's sudden attack, to the Archmage's brutal and vindictive assault on the defenseless unicorn, was a blur.  But it wasn't long before images, thoughts that Hank didn't even remember having registered, began replaying through his mind.  _

_He remembered, upon finding themselves trapped in the cave, how he could hear Uni's weakened bleating.  In fact, he could still hear it in his head.  But even more painful was Bobby's voice, morose and bleak, yet pathetically hopeful at the same time._

_"How bad is it?" he had begged his sister._

_Sheila didn't look at the boy, her eyes sadly fixed to Uni, whose head rested in her lap.  "Well," she began, trying to sound encouraging, "I'm sure she'll—" _

_"Tell me the truth!" the boy interrupted insistently._

_Sheila gave a sigh of acquiescence and bowed her head.  "I think she's hurt pretty bad."_

_Bobby looked as though his entire world had shattered.  He muttered the name of the baby unicorn, the one creature in this insane world that he had grown to love.  An innocent casualty of the battle they had chosen to fight, taken away by the one creature who Bobby now had more cause to hate than anything in this universe._

_Hank remembered looking down at Sheila, whose hair glowed coppery-gold in the light cast by his drawn arrow.  He had never seen her look so sad as she tried to comfort her brother.  "I'm sorry, Bobby," she said softly._

_The young Barbarian scrubbed his tears away with the back of his hand, adopting a fierce look of painful rage.  "Don't feel sorry for me, Sheila," he replied.  "Feel sorry for Venger."_

_It was these words that stuck with the Ranger now.  As he and his friends milled about the craterous, almost alien, site of the Dragon's Graveyard, surrounded by the bones of mammoth creatures long dead, he again thought of the boy's words from the cave, and they worried him._

_Bobby reached out to Sheila, who was holding Uni, and she lowered the feeble animal gently into her brother's arms.  He clutched Uni as tightly as he felt he could without hurting her.  Hank could see that the boy was crying again, though Bobby tried to hide it by burying his face in the unicorn's coat.  "I don't know anything I can do for you, Uni," he muttered despairingly, though a violent glint caught in his eye.  "Except make Venger sorry."_

_It was at that moment that Hank's will to keep silent broke and he voiced his concern.  "Bobby," he said, "I'm worried about you.  No kid your age should hate _anybody_ this much."  His eyes were wide with concern as he looked down at the boy, who was strangely cool in his fury._

_"Like I said before, Hank," Bobby returned in a calm voice with an edge like jagged steel, "don't worry about me.  Worry about Venger."_

_At that, he walked away, cradling Uni with extreme gentleness for all the pent-up wrath inside him.  Hank watched him go and felt as if a little of his own innocence had died in that moment as well.  The boy's demeanor was frightening.  Hank prayed that Uni would survive her injuries and pull through, because in facing the prospect of losing something that important to him, the ten-year-old Barbarian had learned of a hatred more passionate than most people ever feel in a lifetime.  _

_It left the Ranger with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, and a question that he didn't want to ask. -- What would the boy do if he _did_ lose what he valued most?_

_Hank hoped, for Bobby's sake, that he'd never have to learn the answer._

*          *          *

"Clear off that table!"

Diana drew her staff and swiped it across the surface of the large oaken slab, spilling the items heaped upon it to the floor with a crash.  Toby entered the small dark chamber behind her, staggering awkwardly under the Dreamer's dead weight.  He sidestepped around the filthy goblets and half-rotted trays of food that littered the floor, probably left behind by the Orcs, and maneuvered his way to the table.  He laid Teri down on it, then backed quickly away, rubbing fiercely at his hands as if he would never quite be able to clean them of the ruddy stains that marked them.  

Diana turned to him as she leaned over the table, noting the haunted look in the boy's eyes.  "It's okay, Toby, you can go," she said gently.  "Thank you."

The Fighter headed, spellbound, for the door in a backward stagger as Ayesha entered the room behind him, panting.  She shouldered her way past him and trembled for a moment as she, too, stared at the still Dreamer.  "What can I do?" she suddenly asked, her voice full of urgent eagerness.  

Presto shot her a backwards look as he rolled up his sleeves, flinching occasionally as each abrupt movement sent a sharp stab into his side.  "Find some water if you can," he said dryly and the Paladin turned and bolted from the room.

Once the children were gone, Diana turned to Presto.  "What do you really think?" she muttered quietly.

The Magician adjusted his broken glasses with both hands before meeting the Acrobat's eyes.  "I think you should hand me those bandages if you still have them," he replied blankly.

Diana pulled the leftover pieces of the thin tapestry she had used to set Presto's ribs from where she had shoved them into her belt.  She was glad, for as awkward as it had been to carry them that way, that she had been compelled to keep them.  Presto took the roll of cloth from her outstretched hand with an unsettled look, then started to work.

He had Diana tear the rest of Teri's left sleeve away so he could see her shoulder better.  With so much blood collecting around her wound, it helped very little.  "Suction," Dr. Preston Myers muttered reflexively under his breath, trying to absorb the pooling liquid as best he could with some of the cloths in his hand.  He shook his head in desperate frustration.

Diana watched her friend.  For the first time, she noticed how tired he looked.  And how much older.  The several-day growth of stubble on his face, which he never seemed burdened with during their first stay in the Realm, was long enough to be obvious now.  It was a strangely deeper red than the light auburn of his hair.  Presto rubbed at his face with the back of his arm, trying to prevent any sweat from reaching his eyes.  He flinched sharply as his ribs seemed to object to his movement, and a corner of his wrist brushed his brow, leaving behind a light streak of red that curved like a half-moon along his temple.  The Magician's glasses began to slide again and Diana reached up to fix them for him so he was able to continue what he was doing.

Presto wrapped the remainder of the makeshift bandages tightly around the injured area, securing the bulk of them directly over the wound.  They slowly began to darken, beginning as a spindle-point above Teri's shoulder which would eventually bloom outward like a macabre red sunset spreading across still water.  The tourniquet had slowed the bleeding, but it wouldn't do very much for very long.

". . . oh, Jesus . . . ," Presto murmured, and Diana had difficulty determining if her friend was cursing or praying.

Finally, Presto raised his head and shook it.  He picked up a ratty, white tablecloth from where it had fallen to the floor and began to wipe his bloodsoaked hands.  "I don't think there's anything more I can do," he said in a hushed and cracked voice.

Diana winced.  It was the outcome she had expected, but she still hated the sound of it.  She placed the back of her hand on Teri's forehead, which was moistened with sweat and streaked with dark blood.  The flesh was cold beneath her knuckles.  "Presto, there has to be something more," she insisted, against her own common sense.

Presto narrowed his eyes at her.  "Diana, I'm not a surgeon, I'm a pediatrician.  And my only stint in emergency medicine was during my ER rotation in medical school . . . years ago!  And don't forget, at the time all I _really_ wanted to do was research.  If you were an EMT, even _you_ probably have more experience in trauma than I do.  Besides," he added, allowing the threadbare, no-longer-white tablecloth to puddle to the floor, "I'm out of anything substantial to work with."

"You have your hat!" Diana exclaimed, almost in a panicked yell, as she grabbed the weapon from his head and threw in into his hands.  "Don't you think you can come up with _something_?"  

"Diana . . . ," Presto muttered despondently.  He looked into the Acrobat's face, which was hard and resolute, though her eyes were clouded over with a glistening watery film.  He sighed in defeat.  "I'll try," Presto acquiesced,  "But don't expect a miracle."  He opened the mouth of his hat to the ceiling and began waving his hand over it.  "_Alacazam--_"

"Presto!"

The Magician stopped short and turned to the door in time to see Varla gallop through it, clutching tightly to Uni's mane.  "Presto," she repeated in a pant, "Outside . . . big trouble!"

"What is it?" Diana asked.

"It's Bobby," the Mystic replied hysterically.  "I--I don't know . . . I think . . . Something's really _wrong_ with him!"

Presto looked from Teri to his daughter and sighed deeply.  The memory of the fire in the Barbarian's eyes scared him and he felt his insides twist into tight knots.  Without a word, he placed his hat back on his head and took a step toward the door.

"Presto!" Diana called after him.  "We can't--"

"Wait for us in the hall, Varla," Presto murmured to his daughter.  After the girl had grudgingly obeyed, turning Uni around to retreat from the room, the Magician turned back to Diana.  "Look," he said, keeping his voice low, "I think she's right.  I think there is something wrong with him.  I don't know what it is, but I saw it . . . strange . . . in his eyes before we came up here.  It might be Kadysse.  Right now, for as much as I hate to say it, the best thing we can do for Teri – probably the only thing _left_ that we can do – is to make sure Bobby doesn't get himself killed . . . or anyone else."

A wave of dread washed over the Acrobat.  She forced her next words out with great difficulty.  She didn't really want to know the answer.  "You think she's going to die, don't you?"

Presto glanced at the Dreamer's inert form on the table.  "I don't know."  He avoided Diana's eyes when he looked back.  "It doesn't look good."

The Acrobat squeezed her eyes shut as if the answer had physically wounded her.  She swallowed hard.  "Do you actually think Bobby would--?"

"I don't _know_," Presto repeated, a desperate crack in his voice.  "But we've got to stop him somehow."

Diana nodded hesitantly and she and Presto made for the door behind Varla.  Toby was still in the hall and joined them, only too relieved to get away from that room.  They saw Ayesha racing toward them with a broken piece of pottery, drops of water marking a trail behind her as she ran.  Finding the water had been no easy task, especially in the ravaged gardens of Tardos.  What little the Paladin did manage to collect, she placed in the cracked clay pot that she had found and made her way back to the room as quickly as she could.

Diana stopped in her tracks as she spotted the girl.  "Where are you going?" Ayesha cried.

The Acrobat turned quickly and faced her.  "Stay here with her," she said, motioning toward the room.  "We'll be right back."  If what Presto said was true, and (judging by Varla's panicked demeanor) if it was as bad as it sounded, this was something that Ayesha shouldn't see.  

"Won't you need help?" Ayesha pressed.

"Yes, we do," Presto responded.  "Right here.  Stay with Teri until we get back.  I've set her shoulder, now I need someone to watch over her."  He stared at the young Paladin intently, taking her gently by the arms.  "Can you do that, Ayesha?"  It seemed the best way to keep the child occupied, especially since Teri's condition didn't seem to cripple Ayesha as badly as it nearly had Toby.  The young girl nodded dutifully and entered the room with her water pot as the other four Young Ones and Uni made their way to the exit.

Once inside the room, the silence was eerie.  Ayesha slowly approached the still Dreamer and her hands began to tremble.  She was forced to hurry the last few steps toward the table for fear that the pot would slip from her grasp and shatter on the stone floor below.  She hadn't realized that she had been holding her breath until she released it in a slow quivering sigh.  

Out of the blue, she remembered telling her mother a few weeks ago about how she and her friends at home were interested in volunteering at the local hospital.  With a twist of her gut, she suddenly felt that she didn't want to do that anymore.  Her chin shuddered uncontrollably and tears began streaming, unchecked, down her face.  Now, more than ever before, the Paladin wanted desperately to go home.  To be away from all of . . . this.

She looked around for a moment, regaining some composure with her eyes away from Teri.  She spotted a tattered tablecloth on the floor, but noticed that it was already saturated with blood.  Her eyes scanned the dim room again.  They finally settled on a corner of the red cape that spanned her shoulders.  She gripped the corner and, after some considerable struggling, managed to tear a strip of it off.  She wadded it into a ball and dipped it into the water she had brought.  It took her a good long time before she could bring herself to use it, but she eventually, tentatively, began dabbing at the horrid blood on Teri's face.  Each time Ayesha squeezed the cloth, the water scattered the blood and dirt in little swollen rivers that streaked down the Dreamer's ashen cheeks, but it didn't seem to do much else.  

She dipped the cloth back into the clay pot and the water crimsoned, faintly obscuring the bottom of the bowl and even staining Ayesha's hand, settling darker into the areas around her fingernails.  The girl visibly shuddered, but she continued at her bleak task.

Everything suddenly felt so hopeless.  What was Uncle Bobby going to do now?  If only she hadn't wanted to go to that stupid amusement park!  None of this would have ever happened!  She looked down at Teri.  The Dreamer wasn't moving at all; no flutter of awareness in her eyelids, no ripple of muscle that those sleeping tend to possess.  Something clearly was not there anymore.  Even the rising and falling of her chest lacked any kind of rhythm, becoming instead slight, shallow, and weak.  Ayesha shifted her gaze directly downward to Teri's right hand, cast distally to the side, fingers curled inward toward her open palm.  Something in Ayesha's brain told her to take the other girl's hand; to not let her be alone.  _Or die alone_.  That thought shook the Paladin and she couldn't bring herself to touch Teri's hand with anything more than her trembling fingertips.  The young girl was unnerved by how chilled the other woman's skin was.  

_I'm so sorry!_ she thought miserably as though the Dreamer could hear her.  "What am I going to do?" she murmured into the silent corners of the darkened chamber; her eyes were blurred and stinging painfully from the tears.

"Alas, if only tears could undo time."  

At the sound of the voice, Ayesha dropped the cloth from her fingers with a start, her other hand darting away from Teri and for the blade at her belt.  (Strangely, she seemed more comfortable with her weapon in her hand than the now-bloodsoaked rag.)  A tall figure stepped out of the shadows in front of her, Venger's grim expression only partly visible in the dim light cast from the hallway outside the room.

"D-Dungeon Master?" Ayesha stated in surprise before her tears renewed themselves.  "W-What are you doing here?"

"I am here to help you," Venger replied as he continued advancing until the remainder of the shadows ebbed away from him.  

"Please," the girl whimpered, "do something!"

Venger merely shook his head sadly.  "There is nothing that I can do."  

Ayesha's face twisted, taking on the look of someone who was about to explode from grief.  "But you said--!"

Venger shook his head again, his eyes never leaving hers.  "I _said_, my child, that there is nothing that I can do."  The Dungeon Master intensified his glare.  "I am here to help _you_ . . . with what you need to do."

Ayesha's features softened through her confusion.  "Me?  But what can I do?"

"Remember," Venger coaxed gently.  "Search your heart and recall the first piece of information that I conveyed to you upon your arrival in the Realm."

Ayesha tried to focus, but her mind remained clouded by lingering panic and rushed desperation.  "I-I don't know," she announced hurriedly.  "What was it?"

Venger shook his head.  "I can not tell you directly," he told her.  "My duty as your guide is to help you find what is already in your heart.  What did I tell you, my child?  Look into your own mind and remember."

Ayesha tried to calm herself and focus.  Thoughts from the past few days flooded her memory, often interrupted by the events of today -- the tragedy, the biting fear, the constant worry about what was happening outside at this very moment.  Ayesha tried to rid herself of these thoughts and concentrate harder.  To aid her in this, she removed her blade hilt from her belt and gripped it tightly.  Suddenly, her eyes flew wider and she looked at it.  

"A warrior!" she said.  "You told me I could be a formidable warrior!"  She looked at Venger urgently, praying that he would tell her that she was right.

The Dungeon Master smiled a bit, giving Ayesha some encouragement.  "That is not all," he announced.  "For, while a warrior exudes great power and strength on the surface, that is not where your true power lies."  He took another step forward and bent his head slightly to her, as though pressing her to continue.  "What else did I tell you?  What have you learned?"

Ayesha sighed deeply, more visibly relaxed as she concentrated once again.  What was it?  What had she learned?  She looked up and coolly met Venger's eyes again.  "You said that I would find that I had more power than I realized."

The Dungeon Master smiled.  "Have you?"

Ayesha nodded involuntarily.  "I think so," she replied.  "I never thought I would have to trick my way out of a prison cell, or have to fight in any kind of battle, or . . . ."  She looked at Teri's motionless body as several tears leaked from her eyes again.  ". . . or have to take care of a fallen friend."  She spoke her words as if guided by another, but they were sincere, and the young girl could feel their truth as she uttered them.

Venger placed a hand upon her shoulder, squeezing with a strong, reassuring grip.  "You _do_ have more power than you realize.  And you are now beginning to discover the wellspring of that power.  You are unique, child, because your heart is filled with the virtuous spirits of not one, or even two, but _three_ of the former champions of this Realm.  It lives within you, as it does the others, but threefold!  The wisdom of the Ranger, the compassion of the Thief, the courage of the Barbarian -- it is your family's legacy to you."

Ayesha trembled at his words and the heavy importance of them, not wholly wanting to believe him.

"Do not fear your gift, child," he concluded.  "It dwells strongly within you and you need only to tap it.  Search your heart and find the power you possess . . . _Paladin_!"

She took a deep, deliberate breath.  His words gave her strength -- strength that she didn't know she had -- and Ayesha was filled with a deeper determination than before.  "What can I do?" she said in a strong and level voice.

Venger straightened to his full height.  "Recall that the power dwelling within your weapon is limited only by what you can believe," he said.  "You, as well as your friends, have yet to learn of their full potential.  The same holds true for the force that resides within you.  Listen to what it tells you.  You will know what to do."

Ayesha turned from him and focused her thoughts inward, allowing her eyes to fall shut.  She imagined the people she loved and cared about, as well as those new friends she had come to respect and value.  Her father (his cunning), her mother  (her heart), her uncle (his strength) . . . each one had given her the profound gift of themselves that stayed with her even now.  Ayesha thought about the trials that they had faced in this world.  She was gripped by a staunch determination that they _would_ make it home again.  They had to!  She tightened her hold on the hilt of her sword.  She could see them all there . . . home and safe . . . and the fire within her grew.

Ayesha opened her eyes to see the room a bit brighter than it had been before.  At first, she thought she had unknowingly activated the power of her weapon.  Something beyond herself prompted her to look down.  There, she saw that the light was not coming from the golden blade of her sword, but from her own hands.  Her fists were aglow with a white luster, causing the brightness that now filled the chamber.  The sword hilt slipped from her grip, but there was so much blood pounding in Ayesha's ears, she never heard the loud echoing clatter it made as it struck the stone floor.  The girl's lips parted, more in awe than in fear, as her palms radiated with a white-hot light.  She could feel a burning pulsation beneath her skin, but she felt no pain, and the longer she gazed at them, the brighter they grew.  After several moments, the glow traveled the length of her arms until it engulfed her completely and she stood, trancelike; a candle illuminating the room and chasing the darkness into the furthest corners.  The burning pulse turned into a tingling warmth that she felt throughout her entire body.

Then, with neither a word from Venger nor a conscious thought of her own, the young Paladin turned her hands upon the Dreamer and the entire room seemed to explode in a flash of white brilliance.

*          *          *

Darkness.  

Although his mind ignited like fire each time he tried to formulate a thought, the overall essence pervading it was that of total darkness.  He felt entombed, trapped within his own head where only black pain surrounded him.  It was suffocating.  It blazed like a flame of pure shadow, burning all rational thought from his mind and leaving it empty and dark . . . except, of course, for the unquenchable feeling of rage.

Pain.  

It was everywhere.  It swelled like a tempest and crashed upon him from all sides.  So all-encompassing, in fact, that it was a further struggle to recall the original reason for it.  Something reminded him.  A voice in his head.

_She is dead, Barbarian._

He swung around wildly, lashing out at the voice that seemed to come from all directions.  He was vaguely aware of numerous terrified cries outside the darkness that shrouded his mind, but they were insignificant.  He searched his surroundings with eyes that seemed to see nothing but blackness and listened for that voice again.  

Anger.  

The feeling seemed to rise like a sickness; spreading its infection throughout his entire being -- although mired in confusion.  Where was the rage coming from?  He didn't know.  The darkness in his head prevented any type of focus.  His mind was a shattered mirror, the splintered fragments of thought linked only by the feeling of anger that flooded through him.  But why?  What had happened to cause this?  He couldn't remember.  Until he heard it again.

_Dead._

His head cocked to the side to listen and he could feel a sneer spreading across his features.

_She perished trying to protect you._

The voice was cold, malicious, and distinctly female.  Some part of him recognized it.  The scattered pieces of his mind couldn't pinpoint how he knew her, but he did know that he hated her to the depths of his very being.

_Trying to protect you . . . from me!_

"Kadysse," he snarled.  That was her name.

A flash rushed through his brain and, somehow, somewhere, he knew that she was smiling.

_They want to stop you now, Barbarian.  Stop you from reaching me.  From getting your revenge._

Hatred.  

Suddenly he knew.  _She_ had done this.  Taken the thing that was most precious to him.  She would suffer for it.  

And anyone who tried to stop him would join her.

_She is dead, Barbarian, _the voice said again.  _Behold.  Even the ones that you ordered to save her have returned . . . in failure.  And now they wish to prevent you from taking your vengeance.  Destroy them.  All of them.  Then, come for me.  I shall wait for you. _

He felt his grip suddenly tighten.  In it, he could feel the coarse roughness of a heavy, crude weapon.  His eyes seemed to open then, the shadows that had clouded his vision lifting.  He could see people around him, through eyes that were once clear and blue.  Once.  Now they were a dull and lifeless gray.  Nearly black with rage.  He passed them over the individuals around him, but the shattered fragments of his mind barely registered them.  He realized that he knew these people, knew quite well who they were, but . . . .  

_No matter.  _

It didn't matter.  

_They are trying to stop you._

They were trying to stop him.  

_You must not let them._

He wouldn't let them. 

He clenched his teeth tightly, along with the wooden club in his hand.  He could see that the grip of the heavy weapon in his fist was now streaked with red.  Blood from his hands . . . blood that wasn't his.  Seeing it sent a fresh stab of pain and hatred that only added fuel to his fury.  The one who had caused this pain was going to pay.  As would anyone who got in his way.  Some distant part of himself tugged at that thought, trying to fight it, but he buried it beneath a mound of hatred.  He tightened his grip and stood ready to strike down the first one who came at him . . . .

Somewhere in the darkness, Kadysse clenched a glowing fist and smiled.

*          *          *

"Diana, watch it!"

The Acrobat vaulted back, away from the swinging club, catching herself in a one-handed crouch as she stared across the distance she had managed to put between herself and Bobby.  She froze, stupefied by the maddened look in her friend's eyes.  

"Presto!" Eric cried to the Magician, "Can't you find something in that hat of yours to take care of this!"

"Damn it, Eric, I'm a doctor!  Not a S.W.A.T. team member!" Presto quipped crossly as he rummaged through his hat.   

"Don't make me laugh!" the Barbarian snarled, his voice not sounding like his own as he turned on the Magician.  

Presto whipped his hand out of his weapon, his fist tightly clenching a large, shiny piece of metallic gold as he thrust it in Bobby's direction.  The young man paused for a brief second, which Presto used as an opportunity to see what his hat had produced.  True to form, and to the hat's strange sense of ironic humor, Presto now held in his grip an oversized, golden policeman's badge.  The words "_Halt, in the name of the law!_" were emblazoned across the bottom of the crest.

"Oh, that's gonna stop him for _sure_!" Eric wailed.

Recovering, Bobby took a step toward the Magician.  Presto's head shot up in alarm and he gave a nervous cry, tossing the badge at the Barbarian.  Instinctively, Bobby raised his club like a bat and swatted the metallic crest high into the air and over the rock walls that surrounded them.

Hank despairingly watched it as it flew.  They had never encountered anything like this before.  Not only had the Realm quite possibly claimed its first casualty, but unless Bobby snapped out of it, the count might very easily come to two . . . or more.  As he started to bring his focus back down to the earth, the Ranger paused, concentrating his glare on the three evil beings still hovering in the sky.  His eyes met those of Kadysse and she returned his gaze with a triumphant sneer.  Hank caught his breath.  _That's it!_

Quickly, Hank made a quarter-turn and brought his bow up to his cheek.  Narrowing his eyes for but a moment to seek his target, the Ranger drew his arm back and fired.  He continued firing until a fusillade of golden arrows was rocketing toward the dark creatures in the sky.  The Mistress of War raised an amused eyebrow as an invisible shield of protection halted the arrows several feet from their intended targets.  Hank did not stop launching his attacks, however.  He loosed arrow upon arrow until his right arm ached from the rhythmic drawing of his bowstring.  The Dark Mistress merely stared him down tauntingly.

The Ranger released his fruitless arrows with a cry of outrage, then shot an accusing finger up into the sky, his eyes burning with anger.  "Let him go, Kadysse!" he shouted.  With a despairing grunt, Hank sent one final shot along its path toward the Mistress of War.

A sharp blow resounded through the valley when the arrow had only cleared the bow by a few feet.  Hank suddenly found himself blown back by the force of it and sprawled on the ground.  Sheila was almost immediately at his side.  Both looked up to see Bobby standing over them, slightly bringing down the club that he had used to deflect Hank's arrow away from Kadysse.  

The Barbarian scowled down at them.  "I told you to stay out of this, Ranger!" he spat.

"Bobby," Hank pleaded as he started to regain his bearings, "Listen to me!  You—"

"You know," Bobby smirked with amused hostility, "I've had it about up to _HERE_ with you and your pathetic reasoning!"  He pointed his club in the direction of Kadysse in the sky.  "That murdering bitch is mine!  And if you think I won't go through you to get to her, believe me . . . _I will_!"  Bobby's voice lowered into a vicious growl as his blank eyes flashed at his family.

"What's happening to him?" Sheila breathed in a desperate whisper as she knelt at Hank's side.

The Ranger's eyes remained heatedly fixed past Bobby at the wicked creature in the sky behind him.  "She's using his anger at her . . . against _us_," he replied.  "That must be what she does.  What must have happened here to the people of the Realm.  We have to stop her!"

The Mistress of War mocked Hank with villainous laughter.  "Arrogant fool!" she proclaimed, her voice full of scorn.  "There is nothing you can do to stop me!  As you can see, Ranger, there is to be only one outcome here!  Destroy him, if you are able!  He certainly will not hesitate to end _your_ miserable existence!  Either way, the victory shall be ours!"

"Never," Hank breathed as he stood up, allowing his bow to slip from his fingers and into the dust at his feet.  He took a deliberate step toward Bobby.

"Hank!" Sheila pled desperately, "Please, don't!"

"I won't fight him, Sheila," he returned gently.  "I can't let Kadysse win.  One way or another, I've _got_ to make him listen to me."

Hank raised his empty hands out in front of him as he took a step nearer to Bobby.  The young Barbarian followed his movements, a look of utter rage on his face, his arms poised to swing the deadly weapon in his grip.  "I'm _warning_ you!"

_We can still reach him_, Hank thought as he watched the young man before him.  _If he was totally gone, he wouldn't be giving us all these warnings!  He's trying to stop himself . . . and he needs help!_  

"Bobby," Hank began evenly.  Sheila didn't know where the calmness in his voice was coming from.  She picked up his bow as she, too, rose to her feet, clutching it tightly to her chest.

"Bobby, I need you to just listen to me, pal," Hank said as he took another step.  "I think I know what's going on here."  He cast a sideways look up into the sky at Kadysse before refocusing his attention on Bobby.  "It was Teri, wasn't it?  The reason that Kadysse couldn't control you when she tried before."  

Bobby flinched almost unnoticeably, but held his threatening stance.

Hank kept eye contact with the young man for what felt like a very long time.  He carefully weighed the thought of taking another step closer before actually doing so.  When he did, he was forced to expel some of his fear in a deep exhale, as he was fully within the range of Bobby's club now.  Over the Barbarian's shoulder, Hank saw Eric moving toward them, but halted the Cavalier's advances with a stern glare.  He then turned back to his brother-in-law, his friend.

"Look," Hank resumed, keeping his voice calm and low, "This is _not_ you doing this.  You hear me?  You've got to fight her, Bobby."  (_Please, fight it!_ he thought, his mind far more frantic than his spoken words.  _Because there's no way I can fight back.  Not against you.  Not like this._)  

"You can't let her take you way from us, too," Hank insisted.  "Teri wouldn't want that."

At the second mention of the Dreamer's name, Bobby almost seemed to hear him.  His face softened a bit . . . and Hank saw this.  "Bobby," Hank said, a glimmer of hope surfacing in his voice, "You hold onto her.  Whatever you used to help you before, use it again now.  If you let her go, Kadysse wins.  Come on, . . . please!  Teri's only gone if you let go of her."

Bobby stared for a moment.  Then, almost like the jumpstart of a battery, his violent anger returned, his eyes igniting like torches at the Ranger.  "Shut the hell up!" he spat.  "Shut up, _shut_ _up_, _SHUT UP_!"  With a sudden and abrupt movement, he drew his club back.

"Bobby, stop this!" a voice cried from the empty space between the two men.  Sheila quickly tossed her hood back and extended one arm toward her brother, the other still holding Hank's bow.  

The Barbarian froze in mid-swing.  "Sheila!" he growled gravely.  "Stay out of this!  I mean it!"

"You won't do this, Bobby!" the Thief insisted, ignoring his demand.  Her glare became less frightened, regaining that matronly adamant glower of her past when she felt Bobby needed her protection.  Now again, even if it cost her life, she would guard her brother and everyone else that she loved.  "I know you won't," she said again, "Not to Hank and not to me!  You're our brother and we love you . . . more than anything!  You have to fight her, Bobby, please!  Fight her and come back to us!"

Bobby's arms trembled as he stared at the woman before him and he began to lower his club.  It descended to waist height, rather shakily, almost as though a part of him fought the movement; wanting to keep the weapon raised.  

His eyes converged at a point on the ground as he tried to focus.  What had happened to him?  What was _happening_ to him?  What was he doing?  His shoulders rose and fell in large movements as he panted arduously, as if the mere questions that he was trying to formulate were, in and of themselves, a heavy burden.  It was almost as though there wasn't enough room in his mind for his own thoughts.  Something kept trying to force them out.

He looked up again and met Sheila's eyes.  They were full of fear, but not for herself.  He then looked past her at Hank.  The Ranger unblinkingly met Bobby's gaze.  The Barbarian knew those eyes well.  They were the eyes of someone who always was -- and who would always remain -- the hero of the boy he had once been.  Bobby shook his head and blinked hard.  "What's _happening_ to me?" he managed in a labored voice.

Kadysse was no longer amused.  In fact, she appeared to be caging utter fury as she glared down at the events below.  She slowly raised an empty hand and gradually clenched it into a quivering fist, focusing her heated stare on the Barbarian.

Almost simultaneously, Bobby screamed; A terrifying, blood-curdling cry that caused all around him to jerk in alarm.  He clutched his head tightly, his face contorting into a look of absolute agony.  Sheila extended a worried hand to her brother just as his head jolted upward, along with his weapon.

"_DOWN_!" Hank yelled as Sheila felt herself cast to the side and to the ground.  A forceful wind, that she somehow knew to be the force of Bobby's club, rushed by her head as she fell.  When she landed, she whipped her head around, searching desperately for her husband.

She spotted him lying prone on the rocky earth a distance from her.

Hank groaned as he raised himself.  He had leapt out of the way and dove to the other side, sliding several feet through the dust and rolling another before stopping.  When he did, he struggled to get his bearings, but froze when two animal-pelted boots appeared a short distance away from his prone form.  Hank's eyes trailed up to the Barbarian's face, which had twisted into a vicious sneer.  "I warned you, Ranger."

In the sky above, Kadysse regained her triumphant air.  A corner of her already-grinning mouth curled farther upward.  On the ground below, Bobby's actions mirrored hers exactly, his own smile widening as he raised his club high above his head.

Diana couldn't stand still any longer.  She bolted forward, not knowing what she was going to do, but knowing that she had to do something!  Upon seeing her move, Eric did the same and the two raced across the valley floor.  The remainder of the Young Ones quickly followed.

Hank stared up at the young man who towered over him.  The Ranger could no longer read his friend's blank eyes . . . which were utterly cold and dead . . . and a dreadful fear shook him to his soul.  He reflexively raised an arm over his face in a defensive gesture.

Bobby froze as a scarce glint caught his eye.  Dangling in between two of Hank's fingers was a small metallic charm.  The Ranger didn't even seem to notice that he had acquired it until he saw the Barbarian standing statuesque above him.  Bobby's facial expression changed to one of pained confusion and he winced as he began panting heavily again.  Hank glanced momentarily at the object that was now suspended from his fingers.  It was a heart-shaped pendent . . . Teri's.  

_I must have picked it up when I slid through the dirt!_ he thought as he refocused his eyes on Bobby and started to get up.

The Barbarian was no longer paying attention to Hank.  His eyes tightly clenched, he doubled over at the waist while the arms holding his club remained high in the air.  It was as though he was physically battling his own body -- his own mind.  He staggered backwards unsteadily as his shoulders rose and fell in a tortured pant.  The Young Ones came to a stop behind him.

_He's fighting her!_ Hank thought as he made it to his knees, keeping Teri's necklace clasped tightly in his hand.

The Barbarian fought to open his eyes and released his club with one hand, using it to tightly grip his head.  He pressed his palm into his skull, as though he was physically trying to hold together the broken shards of his mind.  "_Oh, . . . God . . . ,_" he managed in a voice that was cracked and strained, "_Hank, . . . somebody, . . . help me!_"

"Bobby?"

The soft voice came from the back of the crowd of Young Ones.  It was filled with worry, but it was also filled with strength.  Bobby's body went rigid when he heard it and he suddenly turned to face the group that had assembled behind him.  

With equal amounts of shock, each of the Young Ones turned slowly, simultaneously parting the crowd to reveal two figures at the rear; one blonde and dressed in fitted chain mail, the other taller, dark-haired, in plain blue and brown.  Bobby shuddered at the sight of the latter.  

"_Teri_?" he breathed, his club completely slipping from his grip as his rigid body turned to jelly and he weakly staggered back.

Teri stood there, looking back at him.  Her blue tunic was jaggedly torn at the shoulder, and the shredded edges stiff with the blood that seemed to saturate both her bandage and much of her clothing.  She was panting heavily; not just from racing down the long flight of stairs, but also from fighting the intense fear triggered by what was happening to Bobby.  Her complexion was flushed, like two flames burning beneath the skin of her cheeks, though her lips were thin and pale.  She could feel the others' eyes on her, but didn't acknowledge them.

Bobby stared for a moment in disbelief.  This couldn't be her!  He had seen what had happened!  This was an illusion . . . or a ghost.  It wasn't possible!  But Bobby took a step toward her anyway.

He was jarred to a sudden halt as an intense pain rocked his senses.  Both hands flew up to grip his head as the Barbarian unleashed a soul-shaking scream.  He squeezed his eyes shut and staggered again.

"Bobby!" Teri cried and rushed forward.

Eric, suddenly himself aware that the Dreamer was actually real, stepped in front of her, arms extended.  "No, Teri, don't!"

She looked up into his eyes pleadingly and gently eased his hands away from her.  "Let me go," she urged.  The Cavalier reluctantly allowed her to pass.

Bobby continued to struggle with himself and managed to open one eye, casting it to where Kadysse sat astride her Nightmare, hand aglow with violent energy.  

"_Get - the hell - out of - my - head!!_" the Barbarian spat, emitting another grunt of pain and sinking to his knees as Teri reached his side.

The Dreamer cradled his face in her hands and spoke to him urgently.  "Fight her, Bobby!  You have to fight!"

Hank raced over to where Sheila held his bow.  He retrieved it from her and instantly began firing a hail of arrows into the air again. Instead of blocking his attack this time, the evil creatures above their heads dispersed and scattered, so that they might better retaliate against the Young Ones from different directions.  

This granted Bobby a moment's reprieve from the onslaught in his mind.  When Kadysse pulled her Nightmare to a halt, he saw it.  When she cursed the interfering Dreamer to the darkest depths of the Underworld, he heard it.  And when she reached out with a fiery hand to strike the girl down, he was ready to act.

As the blast neared the two kneeling on the ground, Bobby sprang to his feet, simultaneously sweeping his club up into his hand and lashing out with a mighty crack, batting the magical bolt back toward its source.  Kadysse shrieked as the blast exploded against her and her steed, sending them plummeting to the ground with a forceful thud.  

Bobby hunched over, leaning heavily against his club.  Teri approached him from behind and Hank broke into a run from where he had been firing at the trio in the sky.  He appeared at the other side of the weakened Barbarian and took him by the arm.

Bane and Mordreth landed beside the downed Dark Mistress as she rose to her feet, enraged.  Her golden eyes flared with fever, the only color visible in her lividly pale face, and they stood out like twin points of screaming callous fire.  She raised both hands, clawed and vengeful, toward the three humans directly in front of her.  Bane and Mordreth raised their arms outward as well and, together, the three creatures combined their powers, building up a force of blinding light.  

"You shall suffer the ultimate consequences for this, fools!" Kadysse snarled almost inaudibly through her teeth from between her consociates.  

Bobby lifted his head unsteadily and stared through a bleary fog at the building magic.  "_No way_," he said in a hushed voice.  

In an intense flash, the three Forces of Evil released their spell and Bobby's weak legs suddenly found strength.  He pulled his arm from the Ranger's grasp, shouldered his way through Teri and Hank, and ran forward, placing himself in front of the attack.

"Bobby!" Sheila cried in horror.

The Barbarian averted his eyes as the blast reached them.  He heard an impact rock the canyon, but didn't feel it.  What he did feel was a type of heat that reminded him of sitting too close to a campfire.  He opened his eyes to see the back of a scarlet red cape.  

_Eric_.

The Cavalier, with his shield, had deflected the attack back at the three evil creatures, though a remnant heat from the energy lingered like a haze in the air around them.  

A mingled cry of outraged protest filled the canyon as a circle of light surrounded the trio and reduced their images to nothing more than shadowy silhouettes.  Suddenly a beam of light rocketed from behind the group of Young Ones, striking the orb prison and casting it out of the valley.  The Young Ones watched it as it soared out of sight.  They turned to see Venger behind them, the magical glow from his hands dying down. 

Bobby gazed in the direction in which the orb had traveled for a moment before dropping leadenly to his knees.  Teri and Hank were at his sides almost immediately.  For a moment, the only thing the Barbarian could do was stare straight ahead.  

Breaking his protective stance, Eric finally turned to face the three behind him.  He smiled wearily down at Bobby, scrubbing the sweat away from his brow with the back of his gauntlet.  

"Bobby, are you okay?" the Barbarian could hear Hank asking from his right, but at the moment, the young man's attention was being drawn elsewhere.

Bobby turned shakily to look at Teri.  He reached up with a trembling hand to touch her.  Although it was still streaked with blood and grime along her brow and down her cheeks, her face was no longer ashen and deathly pale.  He couldn't believe that she was truly real  -- real, and kneeling here beside him.  His heart twisted at the memory of what had happened . . . and most especially what had happened afterward. -- Memories that were quickly returning to him with horrifying clarity as the shattered fragments of his mind began to refit together.  Something of a tremor shook him as he met her eyes, then, finally, Hank's.  

"What have I done?" he choked out.

"Hey, pal," Hank said as he took Bobby insistently by the shoulder, trying to reassure him with his voice.  "You didn't do anything—"

Bobby shook his head bitterly.  "Don't patronize me, Hank.  I'm not a ten-year-old kid anymore," he said, shreds of anger lacing his voice.  "I could have killed you!"  He squeezed his eyes shut, casting his scathing glare inward.  "How could I have done this?" he whispered ruefully before opening his eyes again, allowing them to travel slowly over each of his friends and loved ones.  "I'm so sorry, . . . all of you."

Hank's reassuring smile never diminished and Sheila joined him on Bobby's right side; her own countenance mirroring that of her husband.  "Everything's okay now, Bobby," she said.  "I knew you would find a way to fight her.  I _knew_ it!"

"Kadysse'll think twice before messing with Bobby the Barbarian again," Eric added, slipping his shield over one of his arms as he crossed them over his chest.  "Am I right, Short-Stuff?"

"Eric," Bobby said, grinning mirthlessly at Eric's humor as his gaze returned to the Cavalier.  For a moment, his words of apology failed him.  Then, all he could say was, "Thank you . . . for saving us . . . .  That was--"

Eric swiped a hand modestly through the air.  "I know, I know," he returned.  "It was 'o_nly the second-bravest thing you ever saw._'"  His eyes traveled to Teri, and Bobby's vision followed them.

Teri came around to kneel in front of him and placed a hand gently on either side of his face.  His eyes went, automatically, to where the stiff blood-brown bandage wrapped around her shoulder.  A shadow passed over his features and Teri followed his line of vision.  Impatiently, she gripped at the stubborn, bulky cloth that Presto had applied and managed to pull it free of her shoulder.  Underneath, though her naked skin and shredded tunic were covered with dried blood, the wound itself had undeniably vanished.  Bobby drew in a sharp breath.

"How—?" he started to ask.

"Shh." Teri softly kissed his mouth closed and brought his eyes back to her own.

She didn't say a word, but reassured him silently all the same as she wrapped her arms around him.  She felt the muscles in his back expand as he, likewise, held onto her for dear life.  Bobby was still able to smell the metallic hint of blood in the air, still able to feel the stiff, dried cloth of Teri's shirt scratching against his skin as he held her tightly.  He hadn't wanted to grip her so fiercely, worried that he might hurt her, but she felt so real in his arms, warm and alive in such a way that he never thought she would be again, that he couldn't let go.  

He became oblivious to anyone standing around them as he clutched her tighter, thoughts of how he never imagined holding her again flooding back.  His chest hitched against hers and he could feel tears burning behind his eyelids as he squeezed them shut.  

And he cried then.  For himself, for the friends he felt he had betrayed, and for the woman he loved more than his own life.  His body trembled with the anguish of everything he had nearly lost.  And as he felt Teri's familiar arms tighten around him, her fingers threading into his hair and her body pressed to his heart, Bobby the Barbarian cried -- muffled and low and desperate.  The kind of crying of which he never would have thought himself capable . . . until now.

Ayesha's eyes were, likewise, brimming.  She wrapped her arms around herself and took a step back, feeling herself come into contact with someone.  A hand came down gently upon the girl's shoulder.  She looked up into Toby's face and gave him a weary smile.

"You look exhausted," he said sympathetically.  "Are you okay?"

Ayesha's appearance still seemed drained, but she couldn't help but beam at his question.  "I've never felt better in my life!" she said, blinking tears over the rims of her lower eyelids.

Presto gravitated to the girl's side.  "What _happened_?" he asked quietly.

Ayesha seemed in a daze as she leaned wearily against Toby's arm.  "I used my legacy," she replied cryptically in a quiet voice as she took in the sight of her Uncle Bobby holding the woman he loved; then that of her parents standing beside them.

Presto stared in disbelief for a moment before his gaze shifted to Venger.  The Dungeon Master nodded knowingly and turned back to the group.  The Magician's lips parted in realization.  "That's _right_," he breathed.  "She's a _paladin_!"  A corner of his mouth curved upward and he shook his head in amazement as his eyes refocused on Teri.  "Wow," he muttered.

After a few moments, Bobby began to notice the sensation of an object that had been in his hand, pressing dully against his palm.  He glanced over Teri's shoulder and uncurled his fist.  There, in his grasp, was the Dreamer's pendant.  Bobby didn't know how he had come by it.  Hank must have slipped it into his hand.  

"Teri?" he muttered hoarsely as he pulled out of their embrace.  She looked at him questioningly as he returned her gaze with a sad and penitent smile.  He lifted his hand to her and opened it.  "Lose something?" he asked. 

Teri caught her breath as she reached forward to take the charm from him -- for the third time.  She held it up and gazed at it for a moment.  It began to glow softly, as it had before.  The chain slipped down around her fingers and the pendant dangled at her wrist as she again met the Barbarian's eyes.  She took his face in both hands and kissed him; a soft, lingering kiss which he returned for what felt like a long time before wrapping his arms around her again.

"I thought I'd lost you," Bobby said, despite his customary awkwardness triggered by, what he called, the "gushy stuff."  Instead, he ignored everyone around him and simply spoke his heart.  "You can never understand what you did for me today.  You saved my life, Teri," he whispered into her ear.  "That's three."

"I love you," she returned softly as tears began slipping down her cheeks.

Hank reached forward when he saw the Barbarian's body slacken suddenly.  He made it to the young man's side and helped Teri ease him downward as Robert O'Brien slid to the ground in a dead faint.

"Will he be okay, Daddy?" Ayesha called from beside Toby.  

The Ranger nodded up at his daughter with a weary smile.  "He will now."

John had been watching from alongside Varla, who had slid down from Uni's back and was stroking the nervous animal.  Uni stared at her longtime friend with a mixture of sorrow and relief.  Varla smiled up at the unicorn -- a smile that withered upon seeing that Uni had suddenly become very jittery.  

"What is it?" the Mystic asked as Uni's eyes focused on the horizon . . . the direction in which the evil trio had been cast by Venger.

Both Varla and John turned to follow Uni's gaze.  "What?" John asked, almost in annoyance.  "I don't see any—"

As if on cue, a blinding beam of light rocketed into the sky, piercing the clouds above and filling the horizon with its malevolent white blaze.  Uni reared and danced skittishly as the column continued its ascent, then vanished just as suddenly past the heavens.

"Wh-What the heck was _that_?!?" John stuttered as he backed up a step.

Diana's hand found the boy's shoulder.  "Balefire," she replied ominously before turning to the others, conveying the message that they already knew.  

"Guys, I think our problems just got bigger."

*          *          *

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Author's Notes:**  I'd like to offer a few "thank yous" to those who had a big hand in helping me to (finally!) complete this chapter:  my betas, of course, especially EQ who exhibited an extreme amount of patience with me; my boss for the lovely, unexpected, not 3, but _4_-day weekend; and _Evanescence_ for that kick-ass album that _so_ put me in the mood to sink my teeth into this chapter!  

Wow.  It really didn't seem as though I had been away from this story for so long – until I had to go back and re-read previous chapters and refresh my memory as to details.  Sorry, everyone.  Thanks for your patience; hopefully there won't be any more delays like that until the end.  (Which is only a few chapters away now!)

As far as references and citations go:

 -- The opening epigraph comes from **_Miss Saigon_**.

 -- Presto's "Damn it, Eric, I'm a doctor" speech is from the original **_Star Trek_** (of course!)

 -- Although I desperately tried to avoid confusion and be as obvious as possible, for those readers who may not have seen the show in a long time, I thought I'd clarify that the entire opening sequence is a recounting of portions of _The Dragon's Graveyard_, a D&DC episode from Season 2.

 -- The Peter Gabriel reference from the last chapter came from his song _No Way Out_.  (Still can't spot it?  *G*)

**Coming Up:**  Chapter 16 brings our story closer to its ultimate conclusion as the Nameless One finally shows his incorporeal face!  An unexpected sacrifice, some last-minute Gushy Stuff, the infamous and obligatory "Long-Goodbye," and angst and drama galore!

Hope you'll join me!  *G*

To be continued…


	16. The Pure of Heart

**Disclaimer:** Since its development in 1983, the animated series Dungeons and Dragons has belonged to the following at some point: Marvel Productions, TSR, Inc., Wizards of the Coast, Saban Entertainment, (according to rumor) Disney, and possibly even others. I guess my point is, it does not (nor has it ever) belonged to me. Oh, well! This story, however, does! I hope you enjoy it!   
  
**Rating: PG-13** for some language and violent elements****

**Forward:  **Well, I never thought I'd get here, but after almost two solid years of posting, I finally submit to you, the second-to-last chapter of _Legacy_!  Wow, one more left (and perhaps an epilogue) and it'll all be over.  Thanks to everyone for the reviews, emails, and/or random words of encouragement.  I've appreciated it so much, and have had such a terrific time with this story!  Hope you enjoy what's left!

**Special Thanks:**  To my fantabulous betas, of course!  To Heidi, who's always eager to help no matter how many times I send her the same chapter of this thing; to EQ for being the best sounding board I know and overall grammar whiz; to Mistri, Cho's Observer who is tremendously loyal and honest when it comes to feedback and ideas; and to Kimmy the best fanfic webmistress of all, whose opinion and attention to detail I value supremely. (Uni thanks you!  *G*)  

Couldn't have done it without all of your help!  Thanks!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**_LEGACY_**

**_Chapter 16 -- The Pure of Heart_**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"_Beware the Great Enchanter . . . .  His thoughts are cold;    
his soul, shriveled.  His eyes are like little machines.    
And where he walks the earth is blighted . . . ._"

_~ Don Quijote_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eons ago a vicious bargain was struck.  An ambitious and impetuous youth disregarded all that was given to him by the Dungeon Master, his father and teacher, choosing instead to follow a Master of supreme evil.  In return for the power to dominate the Realm, the brash youth surrendered his humanity, his goodness, and his very soul.  

He vowed to bring down the Dungeon Master and control the Realm entirely.  His virtuous spirit was locked away in a great cenotaph at the very edge of the land and he girded his power toward the destruction of his former teacher as well as the complete dominion of the Realm. 

And he took the name of Venger.

As a result, a creature of ultimate evil, a creature without name, Venger's new Master, would rule the land, wreaking terror and destruction through His indomitable protégé . . . and the Dungeon Master would be powerless to stop it.  

The plan was flawless and vicious.  After all, no matter what his loyalty to the Realm, Dungeon Master would never destroy his own son to protect it.  It seemed that no power in this world would be enough to stop the Nameless One's conquest.

He had not, however, counted on the power of six children from another world:  _Six Young Ones who were pure of heart_.

Now, centuries after his redemption at the hands of Dungeon Master's young pupils, the man once known as Venger again beheld the approach of his former Master.  The collection of black clouds grew darker and thicker, billowing and swirling in the sudden driving winds that churned the air.  Flashes of lightning ignited at the point where the earth met the sky in the distance, sparking over and over until a vast column of light erupted from the horizon and began to move steadily forward.

The darkened skies were suddenly aglow with an horrific gleam from the glowing pillar.  A white inferno of blinding light was encased in a swirling sheath of bile-colored smoke and flame.  The entire column was caged by shooting beams of lightning, crackling in the clouds above and charging the ground below as the entire monstrosity moved forward, leaving behind it a path of molten nothingness.  

The only sound lingering in the air was the violent shriek of electric magic mingled with the snarl of some otherworldly beast.  A sound that grew ever nearer as the creature approached.

The apocalyptic vision advanced, just as it had during Venger's first encounter with He Whose Name Can Not Be Spoken.  But this time, no bargains were going to be made, no deals struck, no souls sold.  The Nameless One did not desire a witless and imprudent minion to control the Realm for Him.  He wanted only revenge on those who had prevented His onslaught the last time.  

But, once again, another world had lent its soldiers.  And they weren't going down without a fight.

Venger stood sentient, watching the approaching creature; his former Master.  At his side, not six, but eleven stouthearted outworlders, ready to defend the Realm that had shaped their lives, for better or worse, to the last.  The new Dungeon Master grinned defiantly.  

"The time has come, Evil One," he said.  "Whatever the outcome, only one shall stand in this Realm today!"

*          *          *

"Teri, get him up!" Hank shouted over the din of the approaching static snarls.  He rose to his feet and readied his bow.  The other Young Ones followed suit, holding their weapons at the ready.

The Dreamer patted desperately at Bobby's cheek, trying to rouse him.  "Come on, Bobby!" she pleaded.  "We need you now!"

Turning to where Teri still knelt at Bobby's side, with his hand already searching through his hat, Presto muttered a spell:  

"_We need to beat the nameless creep,   
and it sure would help if Bobby weren't asleep!_" he hinted urgently.  

The Magician's fingers wrapped around a thick metallic object and pulled it from the hat.  In answer to his query, Presto's weapon had produced a simple round-faced alarm clock.  

Presto gave the object in his hand a crestfallen stare.  He glanced back over his shoulder to see that the Nameless One had grown even closer.  With a nervous yelp, the Magician quickly redirected his attention to the clock as he hurriedly wound it and set the alarm, pointing it in the direction of the unconscious Barbarian.  _Here goes nothing!_  

"Okay, Bobby," he urged, "time to get up!"

The sharp tinny bell rang long and loud, but that wasn't the only thing to draw the attention of the others.  As the alarm sounded through the valley, out of the clock, where the hands met in the center, shot a thin stream of cold water, dousing the Barbarian's face.  

Bobby finally opened his eyes, sputtering, his arms flailing.

"Is that the type of gag gadgets that all the professional hospital magicians are sporting nowadays?" Eric jibed.

Presto chuckled nervously, looking down on the Barbarian as Bobby lifted a groggy hand to brush his sodden bangs out of his eyes.  

"Heh," Presto muttered, "sorry!"

"I guess I deserved that," Bobby groaned while trying to raise himself off the ground.

"Hate to wake you, Sleeping Beauty," Eric called over his shoulder as Bobby struggled to his knees, "but we've kinda got a situation here!"  

Bobby climbed unsteadily to his feet with the help of Teri and Sheila.  He felt Uni nuzzle him into an upright position from behind and he turned to her.  With a grim smile for his oldest and dearest friend, he gently stroked down the bridge of her nose before turning to face the approaching monster.  Bobby grabbed his club from the ground at his side and leaned against its handle for a moment.

"Are you all right?" Teri whispered to him.

"This has got to be the worst spring break I've _ever_ had!" the Barbarian groaned, a bit more reminiscent of his old self.  He pressed the heel of his palm against one of his eyes and screwed up his face in an attempt to shake the daze out of his head.  "I'll be happy when baseball season is back in full swing!  No pun intended."  He blinked his eyes open and tilted his head to grin wearily at Teri before turning to face the advancing tower of smoke and flame.  "Stay by me," he ordered, regaining some of his seriousness.

Bobby swung his club upward from the ground and held it poised above his shoulder.

Teri gripped his arm tightly, not only to steady him, but also from the nervous fear that flooded her entire body at the sight of the creature in the distance.  Bobby had told her so often about the Nameless One upon his return from the Realm, Teri imagined that she would be prepared for seeing Him.  

Nothing, however, could have primed her for the appearance of this monstrosity; this vile creature that bore down upon them, leaving nothing in His path but ash and waste.  How could they ever expect to defeat Him?  The Dreamer could hear Uni anxiously thumping the ground as she shied back from the approaching light.  Teri imagined her heart must also sound like the unicorn's frantic dance and she shuddered in terror at Bobby's side.

John Montgomery trembled uncontrollably at the sight of the towering column of dreadful magic.  "Wh-What _is_ it?" he managed in a wavering squeak.

"His name is not for your ears, Squire," Venger intoned familiarly.  "He has countless titles.  But, to all, He is known as 'Evil.'"

"Evil, No-Name, Apocalypse, Old Sparky--  I don't care _what_ you call Him!  I just want to call Him _gone_!" Eric shouted back at Venger.  He drew closer to his son.  The lashing wind whipped his raven hair in and out of his line of vision, but Eric never took his eyes off the nearing tower of light.  "How do we get rid of that thing for good?" 

A wild shriek from the air above interrupted any answer that could have been given to the Cavalier.  Three dark creatures soared out of the sky, two on horseback and one encased within an azure sphere.  They spiraled around the column of the Nameless One and headed to the ground directly in front of Venger and the others.  Landing between their Master and the group of assembled Young Ones, Mordreth, Bane and Kadysse paused, glaring viciously at their enemies.

Behind them, the approaching Nameless One suddenly stopped, although the bestial snarling that He emitted continued to echo through Tardos Valley.

Presto shifted his vision nervously from the evil triad on the ground to the towering pillar of light behind them.  He felt as though he and his friends were on display.  The three forces of evil were just waiting there, and the thought that he and the others hadn't been attacked yet made Presto very uneasy.  

"Wh-What's He doing?" the Magician asked, directing his voice back at Venger but not daring to look anywhere other than straight ahead, fearing that something might happen if he did.

Venger seemed similarly perplexed.  "He is . . . _watching_," the former Archmage finally answered.

"Well then," Diana added as she extended her staff to full length and struck a battle-ready stance, "let's give Him an eyeful!"

Each of the Young Ones' weapons glowed as they raised them for combat, causing a melodious hum to fill the air around them.  If they had to confront these three forces of evil one last time before finally facing He Whose Name Can Not Be Spoken, then they would do so.  But this time, they would do it together.

Hank stretched his arm across the arc of his gilded recurve bow, then pulled it steadily back.  The flaming bowstring and fiery arrow appeared in his three-fingered grip, leveled at the threesome straight ahead.  Sheila's hands tightly clasped the hood of her magical cloak and the entire violet cloth shimmered, poised for use.  

Ayesha still looked weary and drained, as she had ever since reappearing outside Tardos Keep with Teri.  She still managed to draw her sword hilt from her belt and grip it double-fisted, sending the burning blade stretching upward.  She narrowed her eyes as the golden saber's light shone upon her pale freckled face.  

Diana's extended javelin burned with a fierce jade light as she gripped it tighter, drawing it closer to her body and readying it to spring into instant action.  Toby, at her side, released his whip from its coil with a swift flick of his wrist.  It puddled into a leather pile on the ground for a moment before the Fighter drew his arm quickly up and down, causing a booming crack to fill the canyon that surrounded them.  He then held it, glowing and ready.  

With a glance at his son, Eric brought up his shield.  He looked out over its upper rim at the many threats that stood before them as the weapon emitted a familiar silver glow.  John clenched his fists tightly, wishing that he had something more to hold onto.  He picked nervously at the skin around his fingernails as his crested medallion pulsed at his throat.  

Presto straightened as tall as his aching side would allow, gripping his hat tightly with one hand as the fingers of the other twitched anxiously above its glowing opening.  Varla locked her legs at shoulder-width and held her twig-like wand in front of her face, hands trembling.  She risked a moment to close her eyes and offer up a silent prayer, as well as a word to her father, unsure as to whether he would hear her, but needing to do it all the same.  _I love you, Daddy._  Presto smiled lightly.

Bobby seized his club firmly with both hands, triggering the humming glow that always seemed to accompany the use of his weapon.  He brought the club close to his left shoulder as Teri gravitated to his other side.  Although she had no weapon, her fingers found the shimmering necklace that was now, once again, surrounding her throat.  It seemed to offer its own power through her fingers as she clutched it tighter.  

Bobby tilted his head slightly until his eyes encountered those of Kadysse.  The evil woman no longer showed any sign of her typical playful venom.  No goading smile, no rapturous façade.  Her windblown hair was a spray of blood against the sickly darkness of the Nameless One behind her.  Her face was a mask of intense hatred, and she met the Barbarian's frigid glare with eyes that were like stone.

Venger stood staunchly behind the Young Ones – no longer the vicious and power-hungry force of evil, but instead the new Dungeon Master of the Realm.  It had been more than two hundred years since accepting his father's role as protector of this land, and now his true test had come.  As he towered over the Young Ones in front of him, regarding the newest threats to his world, he maintained his regal appearance.  His ebony cloak snapped crisply behind him in the driving winds and his billowing black and gray garments still seemed regal, even in the dusky gloom that surrounded them.  He raised his hands, never removing his sight from the looming pillar of his former Master, and his palms, along with the crystal amulet affixed to his cloak, began to glow with a fierce ruby light.  

He focused his attention on the Nameless One's newest minions and stood ready to join his young friends, side-by-side, fighting to protect the Realm.  The group of twelve waited for the three evil creatures to make the first move . . . .

But they didn't.

In fact, the first move was quite unexpected.  The Young Ones seemed to be in a standoff between themselves and the three new threats, neither group budging as they stared each other down.  The eleven humans concentrated so intensely on the three creatures directly in front of them, that they were caught completely off guard when John suddenly cried out, "Hey, you guys!  That – that _thing's_ moving again!"

The Young Ones were abruptly startled out of their altercation.  They had expected their first battle to be with Kadysse, Mordreth, and Bane.  It came as a shock when, just as John had said, the Nameless One, Himself, began advancing on them instead.  The group of humans and Venger began backing awkwardly away from the approaching column of putrid fire.  

Kadysse and the other forces of evil, however, remained stationary as He Without Name came at them from behind.

"No," Venger breathed as the Evil One came close to enveloping His three minions.

"What?" Hank demanded, keeping his arrow leveled straight ahead.  "What is it?"

Venger didn't answer the Ranger right away.  Instead, the group watched as the Nameless One came to tower over the backs of His servants.  Bobby could swear that he saw Kadysse flash him a cold and venomous sneer just as the pillar of swirling evil swallowed them completely.  

For an instant, only the black silhouettes of the three forces of evil could be seen, trapped within the swirling column of light and fire as the Nameless One came to a rest over the place where they had been standing.  Then each figure seemed to dissolve into its own individual vapor of shadow, their incorporeal forms swirling into the cyclone that made up the body of He Without Name.  The unsubstantial faces of each creature were briefly visible, spiraling along the outer edge of the column of magic – the serpentine image of Bane, the skeletal bearing of Mordreth, and finally, the vicious beauty of Kadysse haloed in the blood red of her hair – fanged, distorted, spectral images which screamed toward the apex of the nameless pillar and exploded there in a burst of blinding light.  

Bobby shielded his eyes.  For a split second, he could hear the bestial shriek of the Nameless One joined by what he thought was the sound of Kadysse's vicious laughter.  Then it vanished, just as her body had; lost in the tempest that ripped through the valley.

The Mistress of War, the Lord of Destruction, and the Lord of the Plague were gone.

"What the hell just happened?" the Barbarian yelled to the others.

"Venger!"  Hank finally succeeded at getting the Dungeon Master's attention and the sovereign mage glanced down to face the others.

"He has done it," Venger replied.  "The Nameless One's final gambit.  I had not expected this."

"What do you mean?" Diana shouted over the increasing noise of the approaching beast as He Whose Name Can Not Be Spoken began moving again.

"He has called His minions to rejoin Him physically," the Dungeon Master explained through the hammering torrential winds.  "Their sacrifice will increase His power, replenish that which was lost in creating them.  He seeks to gain an advantage and overpower us that way.  Quickly, my pupils!  There is no time to lose!  Make a pile of your weapons and stand by me!"

The Young Ones did as they were told and formed a cluster beside Venger, looking outward at the approaching nameless creature.  Even Teri cast her pendant onto the mound.  The new Dungeon Master spread his hands over the glowing weapons heaped on the ground, creating an energetic surge of power that linked them to his palms.  The electric magic grew from the Weapons of Power as He Without Name drew nearer.

Suddenly, when He was no more than one hundred yards away, the creature stopped; pausing, waiting, and watching.  Eric gulped hard, remembering all too well what had happened the last time they had faced this thing.  The Nameless One had paused, just as He was doing right now, almost seeming to revel in the sight of His victims far below as they tried desperately to save themselves.  Then, inevitably, the swirling clouds would part like a great curtain, revealing a demonic face that was as unspeakably evil as the creature's name.  It had happened before, and now history seemed to be repeating itself.

"Dad?" John whimpered at Eric's side.  The Cavalier glanced down at his son, shifting his gaze from the boy, to the creature above them, to the magic that Venger was formulating to counter the attack that would soon be upon them.  

"Don't look," Eric muttered, and the young Squire buried himself into his father's side.  The Cavalier, however terrified, just as before, was strangely unable to tear his eyes away from the spot where the Nameless One's face would emerge as soon as the mantle of clouds split.

The sliver of time in which the Nameless One actually paused felt like an eternity to the huddled Young Ones down below, and as the heavens finally divided to reveal the heathen monster, the world sped up again and the Young Ones found themselves under siege from a missile of fire blasted from the creature's blazing mouth.  

Venger clenched his fists tightly, summoning the power of the weapons to join with his own.  As the silvery combustion surrounded the magical items heaped upon the ground, it shot a finger of energy to meet with the Nameless One's onslaught.  The two forces collided in midair, and remained battling there for a few eternal moments.  Then the power of the evil creature began forcing the Dungeon Master's counterattack back in the direction of the earth.

"He is too powerful!" Venger grunted as he tried desperately to force the weapons' power back toward the sky.  The Young Ones could only watch helplessly as the destructive energy drew inexorably nearer, held back only by the thin spear of light that shot skyward out of their weapons.

"B-But this has got to work, right?!?" Eric insisted in a desperate wail.  

"What more can we do?" Sheila asked, looking pleadingly at Hank.

The Ranger nearly sped toward the pile of weapons, tempted to grab his bow and unleash as many arrows as he could at the creature above before the descending magic engulfed them all.  But removing his weapon would mean less energy with which the Dungeon Master could repel the attack, and possibly less time for them all to remain alive.  

_But this is the same thing that happened last time!_ he thought frantically.  _We have more power now!  More weapons!  More people!  Why isn't it working?!?_

One look at the Ranger's bleak expression and Venger's visibly fading strength, and the other Young Ones began to realize what would happen.  He Whose Name Can Not Be Spoken would soon overtake the power of their weapons.  And they would be destroyed in an explosion of fire.  

Or they could run; escape again using what little power the Dungeon Master had left.  But the original Young Ones also knew that, this time, hiding in the Underworld wouldn't save them from the Nameless One.  This time, He would follow them to its very depths . . . just as He would have followed them home.  The group of friends grew closer together as the wave of hopelessness began crashing against them.

"This is _nuts_!  There's got to be something else we can try!" Eric cried again, denial still eating away at his realistic mind.  He rounded on the struggling Venger.  "I mean, you brought us all this way!  We decided to stay and fight!  And we haven't done a damn thing!!  We have to . . . !  There's _got_ to be . . . !"  The Cavalier turned back toward the Nameless One with an infuriated scream of petrified frustration.

Sheila suddenly felt a firm hand on her shoulder.  She turned with tear-filled eyes to look at her husband.  The Ranger was serious, but also seemed calmer somehow.  A strange, sad smile suddenly budded across his lips.  Sheila was bewildered.  _How could he smile at a time like this?_  

Hank took in the sight of his wife standing in the surrounding gale, wayward strands of red hair whisking turbulently about her face.  He didn't remember the last time she had looked so beautiful.  His vision shifted to where his young daughter stood.  Ayesha had made him prouder than he'd even thought possible.  He looked at both of them for a moment, two women who meant more to him than anything in the world, then said the only thing he could that would sum up everything he held in his heart.  

"I love you both."

It was not a concession, nor an admission of defeat, but the Ranger didn't want to leave anything unsaid . . . no matter how this ended.  He caught them both in a fierce embrace.

Bobby turned to Teri, spurred by Hank's actions.  Before he could even say anything, the Dreamer smiled up at him.  "I know," she muttered and they wrapped their arms around each other and fixed their eyes on the ongoing struggle of magic above their heads.

Presto smoothed Varla's hair and looked down at her sadly.  "I'm so sorry," he said.  The girl shot him a quizzical look.  Sorrow.  That, she had not been able to read in him.  Love, yes.  But why was he sorry?  "If you hadn't come to live with us, you would never be involved in all this," the Magician said ruefully.  "You would have had so much life ahead of you."

Varla threw her arms around her adopted father, tears falling from her eyes as she buried her face into his chest.  "If I hadn't come to live with you, on the inside, I wouldn't have been alive at all!"  

Presto breathed a heavy sigh and hugged the girl tighter, any pain that it caused in his ribcage did not seem to register in his mind.  

Bobby glanced over from nearby, once again astonished at the maturity of the young Mystic's words.  He smiled grimly as he held Teri.

Diana reached out to her right, uncurling fingers that had been painfully clenched into a tight fist as she reached for Toby.  Her fingers lightly touched his skin, then made a desperate scramble to gather her nephew's hand in hers.  They held on for a moment, seemingly for dear life, before turning their heads to look at each other.  The Acrobat met the Fighter's eyes and mouthed the words "_Love you_" to the boy at her side.  

Toby returned with a brave smile.  "You, too, Aunt Di," he said quietly.

Eric kept his hold on John as the boy trembled against him.  The exchanges among each of his friends had lasted no more than a few seconds, but it was enough to get the Cavalier's blood boiling -- as it often did whenever the others showed signs of defeat.  As it had the time they were left without a leader when the Darkling had kidnapped Hank.  As it had when they found themselves trapped, weaponless, in a jail cell in that village near the Swamps of Darkness.  "_We're giant-sized!_" he had told Diana at the time.  And if there was one thing this Realm had taught him, it was that he had been right about that.

The Cavalier refocused his vision on the dueling lights in the sky:  the hail of fire that spewed from the Nameless One's mouth and the shaft of silver energy rising out of their weapons to protect them.  Venger's beam was shrinking back, but the new Dungeon Master was still fighting on.  Suddenly a different light caught Eric's eye, causing him to look down at his son.  At the boy's side, somewhat hidden by the baggy tabard that he wore, was a dull sort of white luminescence.  The Cavalier quickly extended his arms, pulling John with them as he searched for the source of the glow.  Holding the boy at arm's length, his eyes fell upon a mild shimmering in the scabbard of the Squire's belt.  

_Looks like it's decided to make an appearance, after all,_ Eric thought ironically as he released John's shoulders.  He held out his open hand to the boy.

John looked puzzled for a moment before noticing the light, himself.  Then he blanched to a ghostly pale, shaking his head furiously as he looked, wide-eyed, back up at the Cavalier.  He didn't know what his father had in mind, but something told him that he _didn't_ want Eric to have that sword right now.  Any words of protest, however, couldn't seem to squeeze their way past his heart, which seemed to have risen into the tight quarters of his throat.

Eric's outstretched hand became more demanding.  "Come on, Squire," he said firmly, "I can't get it without you.  And I don't think the silly thing would be showing up right now if it couldn't be of _some_ use!"  He held a stern glare on the boy until John finally, shakily, lowered his hand to the holster at his waist.  

His fingers wrapped around a space in the air just above the sheath and he drew his arm back, producing a long silver sword which appeared as it cleared the scabbard.  The Squire drew the heavy blade up and clutched it against him for a moment.  He looked at it, the gleaming hoary weapon that looked like a shard of moonlight in his hands, then into the eyes of his father, who looked back with an insistent glower.  John saw rather than felt his arms move, stiffly and against his own volition, to hold the blade out to Eric, who grabbed it quickly and unceremoniously as he spun around to face the others.

Hank was the most surprised at the sight of the new addition.  Or, rather, the sight of the Cavalier gripping a silver broadsword as though he had wielded it all along.  "Eric?" he asked, "where did you--?"

"From my Squire, where'd you think?" Eric cut him off before the Ranger could finish his question.  He looked around, trying to decide the best way to use the weapon which had just appeared and his fist tightened around the hilt.  Perhaps upon the pile with the others was the most logical choice. . . .  

Eric inched toward the energized heap, unsure if he really ought to cast the sword in.  He knew the blade had the ability to capture and redirect a blast of magic back toward the assailant.  That type of counterattack would prove useful right now.  But he wasn't sure if throwing it amongst the other weapons would be enough.  

Perhaps it would have to sustain a direct hit before it would work.

Or maybe someone actually had to be holding it.

He stood next to the pile of weapons, undecided, raising a defensive arm up to ward off the charge of the struggling magic beside him.

"Wait!" Hank shouted suddenly, stopping Eric in his tracks.  "Hold on for a second and listen, everyone!" he said as he stepped away from Sheila and Ayesha.  "Hasn't anyone wondered why we're here?"

"Oh, wait, I know this one," Eric mused irreverently, his actions edgy as he stood beside the weapons.  "To redeem Venger! -- No, sorry, -- that was the _last time_ you asked that question!"

"I'm serious, Eric!" Hank countered.

"So am I!" the Cavalier returned over the roar of the gale.  "And since it's probably too late to start coaching old No-Name on the benefits of oral hygiene, I'd say we're here _to_ _save_ _the_ _Realm_!" he added in an sardonic tone, gripping the sword impatiently.  

"And our own world," Sheila added with more seriousness.

"Yeah," Hank agreed, "but I mean '_we_'!  _Us_!  Why are _we_ here?"  The Ranger indicated Venger, whose power was slackening under the Evil One's assault.  "There's something really familiar about all this!  Doesn't anyone else see it?"

Diana met Hank's eyes.  "Venger can't stop Him any more than the old Dungeon Master could," she said.  "It's happening the same as it did last time."

"Exactly!" the Ranger confirmed.  "Think about it!  Why would it do any good for us to stay here in the Realm if Venger was just going to use our _weapons_ to defeat the Nameless One?  He could have done that with or _without_ us!  No.  There's something more to winning this!  Something that _we_ have to do!"

"You're right, Hank!" Presto interjected.  "If we're here, we should actually be a part of this!  Otherwise history is just repeating itself!"

"So what can we do?" Bobby shouted over the clamor of clashing magic.

"Remember what Venger said when we first arrived?" Sheila called out to all of them.  "The evil that we're facing requires an even greater force of good to counter it!"

"But how are we supposed to do that?" Toby hollered.  "We don't have magic like Venger does!"

But no one could voice an answer.

Eric clutched the hilt of his sword even tighter, his thumb grazing over the milky-white moonstone set into the guard.  It was the first time he had really taken a good look at it.  He looked from the gleaming silver blade, to the pile of weapons, to the others.  

And he remembered something.  

Something he had been told not long ago.  

A riddle.

And just like all the riddles they had been given throughout their time here, it sprung to mind at a moment of hopelessness, a moment when they needed it.  The strange thing about it, though, was that it came from a source that Eric had never associated with the Realm – something that Cassie Masterson had told him the night before they returned here:  _The words of the mouth often mask the truths of the heart._

For some unexplainable reason, Eric the Cavalier knew that what Toby said was wrong.  That they _did_ have some magic.  They had to.  And that in their hearts, they all _knew_ it.  

Although what they needed to do about it was still unclear, for the moment, just knowing that something _could_ be done was enough to give Eric some kind of hope.  He fully faced the others.

"You know what?" he announced over the surrounding din, "We've _got_ to have a power that's got nothing to do with these weapons!  And I think the new DM, here, knows that better than anyone!"  He eyed the struggling Venger with a sideways glance.  "Especially based on how many times he's stolen them away from us!"

"And we still always managed to beat him!" Bobby affirmed.

"Remember!" Eric continued as he surveyed his friends.  "He said that was why we were brought here in the first place.  It was also why we were brought back again this time.  And," he added with a glance at John, "it's why our kids are here, too.  _We're_ here because there has to be something that _we_ can do!"

"Yeah, but what?" Bobby demanded, taking his eyes off his friends to focus on the attacking creature above.

The Cavalier's mouth suddenly widened into a huge grin.  "I remember saying once that we're giant-sized," he said with an air of confidence.  "I think it's time Mr. No-Name up there learned that for himself!"  And he turned, sword in hand, and took a deliberate stride toward the towering column of vicious light.

In an instant, Eric could feel a hand clamp tightly around his wrist.  "Eric!" Diana's voice shouted.  "What are you doing!?"

The Cavalier turned his head down toward her.  The young woman's brown eyes were demanding and panic-wide.  A familiar smirk curled a corner of Eric's mouth.  "Bein' stupid," he answered plainly.  "What else?"  His face softened almost immediately as he suddenly reached for her, pulling her abruptly to him with one arm and placing a firm but tender kiss on the Acrobat's lips.  

Diana suddenly felt as though caught within the whirling torrent surrounding them.  The kiss was very different than their last one back at the Keep.  That one had been sweet and natural; the affirmation of a love that had never truly died.  This one was full and serious, though desperately short; the reawakened memory of a sixteen-year-old passion poured into the few fleeting moments that it lasted.  Eric's left hand pressed her to him as his fingers spread flat against the small of her back, sending a tingling quaver up her spine.  Diana attempted to ignore the desperation of the circumstances which compelled him to continue gripping the sword in his right fist as he held her.  The Acrobat's fingers moved to cling to the toggles at the shoulders of his cape as her initial shock faded and she began to kiss him back.  Before she had time to slide her arms fully around his neck, Eric had pulled away, leaving her feeling chilled, empty.  

As her mind swam, she felt, rather than saw him crouch down and to the side, thrusting his arm into the pile of weapons and retrieving his shield.  Straightening, Eric faced Diana again with an all too brief smile, both weapons in hand.  

Then he turned and ran toward the Nameless One.

"Dad, _stop!!_" John screamed as he came racing forward in a wild panic.  Toby reached out and caught the boy, who ardently struggled with his friend beside the dumbstruck Diana.  

The Acrobat's eyes followed where Eric was going, her lips still tingling.  Suddenly another kind of shiver, one of dread, rippled through her body.  "My God," she gasped.  "He'll be _killed_!"  She, too, broke into a desperate run.  The Fighter reached out to stop her as well, but his struggle with John prevented him from catching her.

"Aunt Di!" he shouted.  "Come back!"

Diana skidded to a halt as she passed the pile of weapons.  Without thinking twice, she plunged her hand into the dome of silvery magic and pulled out her javelin.  She then took off after Eric.

John and Toby shared a startled look before ceasing their joint struggle, releasing their grip on each other, and tearing after their loved ones.  Both the Fighter and the Squire paused to retrieve their weapons from the pile, just as Diana had, before running onward.

It was at this time that the Nameless One's onslaught against Venger suddenly died down.  The new Dungeon Master's power likewise faded in a swirl of exhaustion and he sank to his knees to recover his strength.  Uni nuzzled him gently.  

High above the tar-colored clouds, the Evil One seemed to turn His monstrous formless head to where several insect-like individuals were sprinting toward Him.  One may have guessed that He Whose Name Can Not Be Spoken was almost amused by the approaching transgressors.  His unearthly beastlike snarling shifted to a defiant shriek and He glared through sickly yellow eyes at the encroaching Young Ones.  He turned His attention completely away from the recovering Venger and altered His aim as Eric slid to a halt below.

Hank swiftly ran after his friends, his wife and daughter instinctively joining him.  The Ranger hardly needed to stop at the pile of weapons, which was now lying idle on the ground after Venger's magic had ceased charging them.  He bent down as he passed, grabbing three items: the bow, the cape, and the sword hilt.  He held a firm grip on the first as he tossed the other two back in the direction of the women behind him.  Sheila caught them both and handed the hilt to Ayesha as she simultaneously swung her cloak around her shoulders and ran onward.

Varla took off as though signaled by a starter's pistol.  Presto was startled for a moment before sprinting after her as fast as he could.  The Mystic dropped to her knees and rummaged through the remaining weapons for her thin and delicate-looking stick.  She found it under Presto's hat, which she promptly tossed up to him as he arrived at her side.  The Magician suddenly felt a voice in his head.  _Come on, Daddy!_ it said as Varla flashed him a nervous smile and the two started toward their friends once more.

Bobby wasn't far behind with his club, but he glanced dubiously at Teri as she raced along at his side, her newly-retrieved necklace in hand.  The Dreamer grinned assertively through her heavy breathing as she ran.  Weapon or not, she was going to be with him through this.  To the Barbarian's right appeared an elegant streak of white ivory.  Uni galloped beside him toward the Nameless One, intent on remaining with the group of humans who were not only her companions, but also her friends.

As Eric skidded to a stop he looked up, suddenly gripped by the thought that this probably wasn't the greatest idea after all.  He craned his neck back, his mouth sagging open like one standing at the foot of a skyscraper, straining to see its top.  Completely devoid of any type of real plan, Eric stared at the lofty putrid light and the swirl of black clouds at the apex of the column.  

Panic swelled through him as the veil of darkness parted again.  The hellish face, which had burned itself into Eric's memory sixteen years ago, was visible for only an instant before the Nameless One's mouth opened and another attack from above rocketed downward.  

The Cavalier screamed and squeezed his eyes shut, tightening his grip on the sword and holding it aloft and ready as he raised his shield to ward off any residual effects of the attack.  He knew it was a useless defense, but he didn't know what else to do.  If there was a chance that the sword's magic could reverse the attack, he had to try.

Suddenly another shout joined his and Eric's eyes flew open.  "Eric!" Diana cried again, reaching him just seconds before the bolt of energy did and wrapping her hand around his arm.  On reflex, he looked at her, unconsciously lowering his shield a fraction as he turned.  

Time slowed as he realized what he had done.  His heart seemed to fly upward and lodge itself somewhere in the back of his throat.  Diana had slid to a halt beside him, but she wasn't trying to pull him out of there.  They both seemed to know that they'd never clear the area in time.  Instead, she stood there, her eyes blazing as they locked on his and the javelin in her other hand glowing fiercely.  The feeling hit Eric like a truck – the memory of what he had confessed to her back at the Keep the previous night:

_I love you.  I have for a long time.  I know now that I always will._

He knew that he had never spoken truer words in his life.  

And in the split second that it took for Eric to tear his eyes away from her and back to the front as he vainly tried to re-raise his shield, the world sped up again and the Nameless One's attack instantly exploded upon them.

*          *          *

An eternal and unexpected moment came and went.  The young woman still felt as though she was caught in a ferocious gale, still felt as though the world was swirling and upending around her, and still felt as though time had frozen in stasis as she waited for death.  She had had no plan, no clear idea of what she should do; only the thought that if they were going to die, she would rather do so making a stand.  And if Eric was going to be the first, Diana wasn't about to let him go alone.

She loved him too much for that.

She remembered hearing him cry out as the blast reached them.  She, herself, had felt a significant jolt of pain, followed by a searing heat that spread throughout her entire body.  After that, the pain subsided but left her with the sensation of pulsing fire under her skin.  Again, she was reminded of Starfall.  

What she didn't understand was why death wasn't coming.  Aside from the initial lancing pain and the current pulsing sensation that seemed to beat like a corporeal heart beneath every inch of her skin, they appeared to have remained unscathed and unharmed.  Diana's grip on Eric's arm tightened and she imagined for a moment that Venger had transported them to the Underworld again after all.  The Acrobat finally opened her eyes to see that the scene around her had not changed.  The storm still raged.  The Cavalier was still at her side.  And they were still in Tardos Valley.   

Together, Diana and Eric looked up -- to a point just above their heads, a point just beyond Eric's sword, which now glowed a brilliant white, where the Nameless One's blast hovered and churned angrily . . . but didn't touch them.  They also noticed that their other weapons, both the shield and the javelin, were also aglow – with a intense blaze the likes of which neither of them had ever seen.

"Wha-?" Diana breathed, astonished.

The two were jolted from behind when Toby and John finally reached them.  The Fighter grabbed Diana's arm urgently, trying to pull her back.  John, likewise appeared next to his father, desperately struggling to drag the Cavalier back around, back away from the blast that could resume its decent and come crashing down upon them at any moment.  

"Dad!" he cried.  "Dad, come on!!"

What happened then was even more unexpected.  As John and Toby reached Diana and Eric they began to feel a similar burning sensation followed by the strange pulsing which spread from head to foot.  A great roar was heard from the sky above, and steadily, unexplainably, the Nameless One's attack was pushed back even further; higher into the air.  

Toby gasped, gripping his intensely glowing weapon tighter.  "What's happening?" he whispered.

"Not a clue," Eric returned breathlessly.  He had remembered, again, that the sword entrusted to his son had the power to redirect a magical attack back toward its source.  That was probably what had saved them initially, but this was something more.  Much more.

All at once, the group increased in size as Ayesha reached Toby.  The young Paladin sank her fingers into a corner of the Fighter's indigo leather vest and reached forward with her sword using the other hand, eyes fixed on the creature above.  Sheila immediately clasped the girl's shoulder as she came to a halt beside Ayesha.  Hank also skidded to an abrupt stop, simultaneously drawing his bow and pointing it toward the sky.  The Thief stretched out her other hand and gripped his upper arm as he pulled back the blazing arrow.  Sheila's own weapon shimmered upon her shoulders.  The entire group began to be vaguely aware of a ruby light surrounding them and pressing skyward against the Nameless One's attack.  In front of the amazed eyes of the seven Young Ones, as the throbbing feeling tingled beneath their skin, the red glow around them intensified and the deadly magic of the Nameless One receded even further.

By then, it started to become clear.  Hank had been right.  It was not their weapons that held the power to protect the Realm.  It never was.  It was _them_.  It came to be exactly as Venger had told them: "_Your power, channeled through your weapons, is the one thing that, when combined, can prevent the crusade of the Nameless One's new servants._"  

But even the new Dungeon Master hadn't known the veritable truth behind his own words.  To defeat, not merely the _newest_ forces of evil, but also the One who was as old as time itself, a greater force of good was needed; one with the power to counter His evil.  The Young Ones, as well as their children, indeed had their own magic -- and the weapons were only a small part of that.  The objects of power were merely a channel.  Even greater was the Young Ones' own purity of heart, their friendship, their legacy of love which bound them.  

As real and tangible as a weapon against the darkest evil.

As they stood linked together, driving the Evil One's energy back, they slowly began to realize this.  And together, as though they were of one mind, they pressed on.

The malevolent siege retreated even further as Varla linked arms with John, gripping her wand tightly and holding a hand out for Presto to join her.  The Magician quickly did and, with his other hand, held the open mouth of his glowing hat toward the sky.

Teri did the same at the opposite end of the line, placing one palm gently on Hank's shoulder as he continued to hold his bow aloft.  Bobby appeared at her other side and entwined his fingers tightly around hers.  Teri's heart-shaped pendent dangled down, twinkling brightly, from their linked hands.  Bobby held his glowing club up and out to his other side.  The Barbarian looked at the Dreamer with a strangely peaceful smile, which she returned, before both finally turned their heads upward to glare defiantly at the supreme evil over their heads.  

Soon, all eleven Young Ones were assembled, linked as though in a chain, daring to challenge the destroyer of worlds, and armed only with their own objects of power as well as the purity in their hearts.  With a savage howl, the creature above felt His attack repelled even more.

A few seconds later, Uni appeared beside Bobby, her graceful neck arched back as she stood protectively with her human friends.  The unicorn's flame-tinted mane streamed behind her and her alicorn began to glow, adding to the light that surrounded the group.  

Venger rose to his feet and walked steadily toward his young friends.  He stretched his hands over all of them and added his own power to their struggle.  This caused the blast of evil fire to withdraw even farther, until it reached a point halfway between the Nameless One in the sky and the Young Ones on the earth.  And there, it suddenly stopped, hovering violently in midair.  

The group below watched it with bated breath, afraid that the slightest waver in their concentration would cause the torpedo of evil fire to come crashing upon them again.  But the Evil One's magic, as well as their own, remained in a deadly stalemate, hovering in space.

"What's wrong?" Hank finally shouted over the deafening swirl of magic around them.

"Why'd it stop?" Bobby added, risking a glance back at Venger.

The Dungeon Master strained for a moment as he continued to focus his power.  "We are . . . ," he grunted in a labored voice, ". . . equally . . . matched!"

"You've gotta be kidding!" Eric yelled out, his sword arm quivering above his head.  "Twelve against one is _equal_?!"

A strained, though clearly annoyed, snort from far to the Cavalier's left declared Uni's displeasure with that remark.  "All right!" he amended exasperatedly.  "_Thirteen_!"

"There's got to be some way to turn up the juice!" Toby added insistently.

Venger didn't respond to any of them as he tried to reach down into the depths of himself, searching for more power.  There had to be something more.  Some small wisp of what Dungeon Master had given him that he hadn't used yet.  Something to tip the scales . . . .

Then, as though an answer to a prayer, the scales tipped.  

A thin beam of even more red energy rocketed into the fray, adding itself to the Young Ones' power and slowly, steadily, pushing against the Nameless One's evil magic.  Each of the humans on the ground, seeing what was happening, concentrated even harder, tightening their grip on each other, as well as on their weapons, steeling their strength, and not thinking to ask where this added help was coming from.  

The fevered throbbing within them intensified into an ardent frenzied pulse, hammering beneath their skin as they fought with every last bit of their strength.  Suddenly, a sharp dissonance rang through the valley, a roar of final protest from the ancient evil as His magic repelled back to its point of origin and was swallowed by the force that the Young Ones had sent to counter it.  

The burning pillar was enveloped in a blinding flash of silvery fire and the lightning which had surrounded the evil creature reacted violently to the countering magic.  The shaft which made up the Nameless One's body grew wider for a moment before a thunderous explosion rocked the canyon, spreading out over everything in its path and leaving behind nothing . . . .  

Nothing but lingering shrieks of dissent.  All that remained of He Without Name.

*          *          *

**Author's Notes:**  Much of this chapter referred heavily to the D&DC episode _Dungeon at the Heart of Dawn_ (most especially any description of the Nameless One) and, of course, Michael Reaves' script for _Requiem_.  A few quotes were adapted directly from these sources.

The opening quotation is cited from the libretto of _Man of La Mancha_, by Dale Wasserman (which is, of course, based on the wonderful novel of _Don Quijote_ by the equally wonderful Miguel de Cervantes).

As for the story, it may be drawing to an end, but there are still a few questions left to answer.  Is No-Name really gone?  Are the Young Ones and their families going to make it home?  Where did that last bit of  "help" come from, anyway?  I hope you'll enjoy the final installment to come!

To be concluded . . . .


	17. Legacy of the Realm

**Disclaimer:** Since its development in 1983, the animated series Dungeons and Dragons has belonged to the following at some point: Marvel Productions, TSR, Inc., Wizards of the Coast, Saban Entertainment, (according to rumor) Disney, and possibly even others. I guess my point is, it does not (nor has it ever) belonged to me. Oh, well! This story, however, does! I hope you enjoy it!   
  
**Rating: PG-13** for some language and violent elements****

**Author's Notes:**  This final chapter of _Legacy_ is dedicated to everyone who has been so wonderful and so enthusiastic regarding my little story over the past two years.  Your support and kind encouragement have served both as inspiration and motivation, and I cannot begin to express how much it means to have people reach out and show that the ride has been worth all the hard work!  Words can't express how much it has meant to me!  Thank you!

Special thanks, of course, must go out to the wonderful EQ and Heidi.  Big hugs!  Big, BIG!  You know what you've done and how much I appreciate it!  My thanks is beyond measure!

This chapter (and the very brief Epilogue to follow) marks the end of what has been a very long journey.  As the coaster pulls, finally, onto the straightaway, I must say again how grateful I am that so many have enjoyed taking this ride through the Realm with me!

Thanks again, and please enjoy the end of _Legacy_!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LEGACY Chapter 17 – Legacy of the Realm 

Hank raised his head from the dirt, forcefully expelling the coating of dust that he felt was lining his lungs.  "Whoa," he groaned between choking breaths as he glanced up in amazement at the space that the Nameless One had once filled.  The clouds above were brighter, separating like wispy feathers as the blue sky began to reemerge.  "Is everyone okay?" the Ranger called out.

"Yes," replied Sheila from beneath Hank's arm as she, too, lifted herself from the ground.  She smiled brightly at her husband before scanning the skies in awe, squinting in the newly visible suns.  The Thief then focused her eyes on Ayesha, who was already on her knees.  The girl uttered a surprised laugh as she beamed back at her parents, even through all the soot that stained her freckled face.

"We're okay!" called Bobby as he pulled Teri to her feet and shook a shower of gravel out of his dusty blonde hair.  He looked to the sky as well, allowing the four suns to warm his skin before whooping triumphantly for joy, catching the Dreamer in his arms and spinning her around. 

"WHOOOO-_HOOOO_!" he cried pointing into the crystal blue void above him, where the nameless menace had been moments before.  "That's _right_!  That's what you get!"  He continued to laugh ecstatically as he hugged Teri closer.

"I can't believe it," Presto muttered, awestruck.  "We did it!"  He wrapped his arms around Varla's shoulders from behind as she, too, stared proudly into the sky.  "We really _did_ it!"

"Is He really gone?" Toby asked, using a raised hand to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness of the Realm's suns.

"Indeed.  Cast out of the Realm," Venger confirmed with a regal smile.  The relief in his voice carried clearly through the still valley.  They all turned to face him.  "Thanks to you, my Young Ones."

"Wait until he gets our bill!" Eric chided in an aside to his son.  John tried to stifle a laugh, but it escaped through his nostrils as a snort.  The Cavalier took in the sight of the giggling boy at his side.  Several hours ago, he wanted nothing more than for John to have been long gone from this place.  Now, having his son here, at this moment, snorty noises and all, made Eric happier than he ever thought possible.  

Diana's fingers ran unconsciously up and down the lengths of her arms as she, like most of her friends, continued to stare at the sky.  The tingling pulse caused by the magic they had just wielded continued to beat gently beneath her skin.  It reminded her again of Starfall.  But it was different.  Very different.  The brandishing of such power in the Temple of Light had left remnants of an unpleasant electric tingling that seemed to crawl beneath her flesh for days.  The Acrobat recalled rubbing fiercely at her exposed skin, trying to force the sensation out through her very pores, along with the memory of what had caused it.  

This time, however, she reveled in it, this soothing pulse which thrummed within her like a second heartbeat.  Her flesh felt warmed from the inside, even as the emerging suns kissed it from the outside.  Diana's fingers caressed her arms in lazy circles, hoping to keep the sensation beneath her skin for as long as possible.

She looked at all her friends and could tell that they felt it too.  They were glowing.  All of them.  And not just in gratitude for seeing the battle to a happy end, but from some wonderful thing on the inside.  Suddenly Diana was reliving Starfall again, but the way it _should_ have been.  Not standing alone, but together.  Wielding untold magic with a hand holding hers, instead of being ripped away from it.  Facing the future with a sense of immeasurable gain rather than one of profound loss.  The Acrobat turned her head slightly, shifting her vision to Eric a few steps away.  He was smiling down at his son, but looked up when he must have felt her eyes upon him.  His grin widened as he looked back at her.

"By the way, DM!" Eric announced as though suddenly realizing something.  He tore his eyes away from Diana and directly addressed Venger.  "I must admit I'm awfully impressed!  But how come you waited so long before breaking out the big guns?"

"Yeah," agreed Presto, also with sudden realization.  "That last burst of energy at the end was amazing, but I have to admit I was worried for a while.  I thought we were goners for sure!"

This drew the Young Ones a step closer to Venger, waiting for his explanation.  Each of them clearly recalled what had happened at the battle's end.  Remembered filtering their own strength through their weapons, and through each other, to combat the ancient evil.  Remembered the magic around them rising to a fever pitch as it hammered beneath their skin.  Remembered struggling for just that fragment of extra power as the colliding forces met in a stalemate above their heads.  Then, from somewhere behind them, there had appeared a thin spear of crimson light, adding itself to the power they had created.  It was a slight push from a gentle yet powerful hand, little more than a magical pep-talk.  Hardly a 'big gun' of any kind, as Eric had suggested, but it had certainly been enough to tip the scales in their favor.  

Venger's powers certainly were impressive.  And timely.

Venger smiled thankfully, bowing his head to the Young Ones.  "My friends, I am most grateful for your praise.  So much so, . . . I regret to say that the final assault did not come from me."

"What do you mean?" Sheila asked.

"Yeah," Bobby added.  "We were already giving it all we had.  The only person left to add to the attack was y--"

"My words mean what they say, Barbarian," Venger interrupted him.  "At thirteen, even with all our powers combined, our strength evenly matched that of the Nameless One.  The only way to tip the scale in our favor, was through the addition of another ally."  The Dungeon Master smiled strangely.

Varla's head perked up.  "You _said_ that we would meet allies here!" she announced.  "B-but I thought we already had . . . ."  She looked around at the family and friends who surrounded her.  ". . . When we found each other!"

Venger cocked an enigmatic eyebrow to her, but still said nothing.

"_Expect to encounter aid -- most unexpectedly; at an unforeseen time, in a strange place_," Presto intoned, recalling the riddle Venger had imparted upon their arrival in the Realm days ago.  "Well, I'm lost now."  He shrugged with the frustration of someone who thought he had discovered a miracle cure only to learn it had debilitating side effects.  The Magician blew a strand of unkempt auburn hair out of his eyes.  "I _thought_ I had it figured when you appeared to us in Tardos Keep," he said, indicating both himself and his daughter.  "I certainly hadn't expected to see you there.  'Course, it would have been _stranger_ if you had shown up wearing your old horn and dress . . . ."  His thoughts trailed off, along with his words.

Eric, too, looked thoughtfully perplexed.  He picked absently at his bottom lip as he spoke.  "My money was on when Teri came back after she was hurt."  He shrugged.  "Both unexpected _and_ strange seeing as how we thought . . . well, . . . um, . . . you know."  He finished spluttering out the end of his less-than-tactful statement with a sheepish cowering grin as he tried to avoid the Barbarian's eyes.

Bobby squeezed the Dreamer's hand tightly and used the other to scratch at his head, releasing yet another small shower of dust from the confines of his thick tangled hair.  "Well," he mused quietly, "that would have been my guess, too."

Venger only continued to smile as he watched the Young Ones flounder through their puzzlement.  

"But if it wasn't Venger's magic," Hank ventured, shifting his glare dumbfoundedly and bringing everyone's attention back to the original question, "then who . . . ?"

There was only silence around them, and then . . . .

"Dear _me_!  But that line was _long_!"

The sudden appearance of a new voice in their midst caused the Young Ones to turn slowly back toward the steps of Tardos.  A lone figure stood there; slightly older than middle-aged, of medium height, fairly stout, wearing an amiable smile.  The person was unfamiliar to many in the group, vaguely familiar to others, but very well known by two in particular.  Eric felt a queasy feeling grip his stomach in a clamp and yank downward as his jaw dropped open disbelievingly.  

"C-Cassie?" he said in astonishment, when he was finally able to speak.  "Wha--?  What the hell are _you_ doing here?"  His gaze slowly went from wide-eyed shock, to a narrowed squint, looking at the woman askance to be certain he was seeing correctly.

John stood beside Eric, his disbelief paralleling that of his father.  But unlike Eric, the boy was utterly speechless.

The robust woman's smile widened as she approached the stunned group before her.

"Eric?" Bobby nudged the Cavalier, "you know this lady?"

Eric was struck dumb again for a moment before stumbling into an explanation.  "Y-yeah," he stuttered.  "S-she's John's . . . nanny."  He never removed his narrow gaze from the woman and she raised an eyebrow at his feeble introduction.

"Child care engineer, Eric," Presto muttered, at a loss for what else to say.

Cassie continued to smile good-naturedly at them as she answered Eric's original question.  "What am I doing here?  I'm simply fulfilling my obligation to my employer," she said plainly.  "Although I never thought I'd have to travel to the ends of the earth to do it!"

Eric couldn't force a word out, but his face contorted in such a way that told the former nurse more explanation was definitely needed.  Cassie shrugged and continued.  "You hired me to look after your son," she reminded him.  "I guess I'd be remiss if I wasn't able to do it one last time.  So sorry that it took so long, Sir," she added.  "The line at the _Dungeons and Dragons_ ride became quite long after you left.  Must have been the post-lunch rush."

Hank stood beside Eric, perplexed by the apparent nonchalance exhibited by this woman about being here in the Realm.  He started to introduce himself, when Eric finally piped up again.  "What do you mean 'one last time'?" he asked.

Cassie sighed, placing a gentle hand on Uni who had come to stand almost naturally beside her.  The assembled Young Ones were even more taken aback by this.  

"You know, Eric," she finally said, "in all the time I've worked for you I've given you a great deal of frank and candid advice -- some of which I know you never asked for.  But any time I tried to simply _hint_ at something . . . well, . . . you never did get it.  You didn't get it that night on your back veranda, and you're not getting it now."  The woman's mouth curled up into a cunning smile, her crystal blue eyes twinkling.  "But then you never did have much patience for mere hints, . . . did you, Cavalier?"

Eric started, and it was a good few moments before he had to remind himself to breathe.  "_What did you call me?_" he finally croaked out.

Bobby nudged John.  "Who _is_ this?" he whispered.

"My nanny," the boy repeated as though the Barbarian hadn't heard the answer the first time, "Cassie Masterson."

"Anyway," Cassie announced as she drew herself up, seemingly dismissing Eric's choked question, "I suppose I'll tell you straight out:  For the longest time, I had been hoping that you would finally, shall we say, _relieve_ yourself of my services.  You truly didn't need me anymore, Eric, and neither did John.  But since you never picked up on the hint I was dropping, apparently, it has become necessary for me to take matters into my own hands."  The woman maintained her tender smile as her voice became all-business.  "So, I have come here to deliver my formal resignation, . . . Sir."  

Eric looked even more confused.  Cassie crossed her heavy arms in front of her chest with another deep, long-suffering sigh.  "I'm sorry, Eric, but I need to quit.  I left my old job for you a long while ago and for ages, I have been wanting to have it back."

By now the Cavalier was in a total daze.  He barely registered what he was saying as the words tumbled over dry lips.  "If you wanted to go back into nursing, Cass, you could have just--"

"I said my _old_ job, Eric," the woman interrupted.  "That is, of course," she added with a sideways look to Venger, "if my son is willing to give it up."

"Your . . . _son_?" Diana murmured as she took in the sight of Cassie, dwarfed as she stood beside the towering Venger.

"You were longer than expected," the former Archmage said casually, not even looking down at the woman.

"You seem to have handled things well in my absence," she returned with a smile as she tilted her eyes away from him and back toward the Young Ones – who stared at her with matching expressions of fish stuck on dry land.

Almost immediately, a halo of light surrounded the woman, growing steadily brighter.  The Young Ones shielded their eyes from the glow as Cassie Masterson vanished beneath the brilliant flash.  Suddenly the blinding silhouette shrank in upon itself, reducing the woman from her height of five-and-a-half feet to one of no more than three.  

When the glow died down, a collective gasp rose up from the Young Ones.  Standing before them was no longer the stout, graying, middle-aged woman, but a diminutive ancient man.  Only the amiable smile and twinkling blue eyes remained to mark the spot where Cassie Masterson had been.  The rest had been replaced by a more dwarfish stature, a bald plate encircled by long white hair which trailed far down the individual's back, and ornamented red robes.  As he approached the Young Ones upon the completion of the spell, his long gnarled fingers entwined around each other and he looked up into their stunned faces, still smiling.

For what felt like a long time, no one said a word.  Then Hank took a step forward.  "_Dungeon_ _Master_?" he breathed in disbelief.

The name, alone, was enough to send Eric into a tailspin.  His legs gave out beneath him and he found himself collapsing heavily into a seated position on the ground, staring straight ahead with that same 'landed fish' expression twitching on his face.  John slid to his knees at Eric's side.  "Dad?" he whispered.  "Who's that?  Where's Cass?"

Whether he was ignoring the questions or whether he genuinely hadn't heard them, Eric simply squeezed his fingertips into his temples and said, "I think . . . I'm having a breakdown."

Dungeon Master bowed his head lightly, regarding each of his former Young Ones, as well as the new additions.  "_Greetings_!  _It is wonderful to see you again, my friends_!" he said pleasantly, but in a voice that held the same wisdom and power as it had in the past.  Though the vocal tone was now clearly male, it bore the same good-natured lilt that 'Cassie's' had possessed.  It was shocking to each of the Young Ones that they hadn't recognized it during the exchange a few minutes earlier.

"Dungeon Master!" Bobby cried in surprise, finally solidifying the man's presence.  "You're here! . . . I mean, you're . . . ."  The young man pointed a finger in Venger's direction.  ". . . We thought . . . I mean, _I_ thought you were _dead_!"

"_Dear me_!" the ancient mage said, raising an eyebrow to the towering figure beside him.  "_You did_?"

Venger appeared almost humorously nervous.  He shared a look with Dungeon Master before directing his voice back at Bobby.  "I believe, Barbarian," he said, "that I simply told you he was not here.  'On another celestial plane,' if I recall, were my exact words."

"Earth?" Bobby said with muted astonishment.

"So it was you who helped us!" Presto exclaimed, taking a step around the downed, and still grumbling, Cavalier.  Soon, the rest of the Young Ones followed suit, creating an excited cluster around their former guide and friend.

"_I offered what little assistance I could in the end, Magician_," Dungeon Master confirmed, "b_ut the true power that finally defeated He Without Name belongs to you.  All of you, my friends_!"  The old mage's eyes continued to twinkle brightly as he passed them over all who gathered around him.  

"_Many years ago, a great evil came to this Realm_," he began.  "_You were able to halt its advances when you returned my son to me the last time you were here.  But evil has a way of being ever present, and it was only a matter of time before it made itself known once more_."  A knowing smile pervaded his face as he took in the sight of his Young Ones.  "_Only the purest of hearts can defeat the ultimate form of wickedness.  Yours were stronger than most, and further forged here in the Realm through your unyielding desire to return home.  That uncorrupted spirit, as well as the staunch determination that accompanied it, was passed on to your families.  Combined, it is an unstoppable force; and one that you were able to use to its fullest potential when needed_.  

"_Your instincts served you well, my children.  For it was never the weapons that held the power to save this world, as well as your own.  They were merely vessels through which to channel your true strength.  Together is when your power is greatest, for you are all linked through unbreakable ties.  And it was together that you were finally able to stand up to the Nameless One, the greatest threat this world has ever known, and defeat him.  Thank you, my pupils.  Once again you have saved us all!_"  Dungeon Master continued to beam proudly.

Diana turned her head and caught sight of Eric, still stunned on the valley floor.  She circled around to kneel beside him.  She had wanted to say something soothing, something comforting, but all she could get out was, "Cassie **_Master_**son!" with a quiet giggle.

"Don't start!" Eric groaned, burying his head beneath his arms.

"I'm sorry," Diana chuckled, feeling a tad guilty at her inability to refrain from needling the thunderstruck Cavalier.  "It's just that . . . you had Dungeon Master living in your house for, what?  Almost twelve years!  And you never even knew it!"

Eric shot his head up to glare at her.  "Oh, like _you_ would have!" he snapped.  "It's not like the woman included it in her résumé!"

"Did you read the small print?" Diana asked innocently.  "Candidate also happens to be a several-thousand-year-old miniature wizard with a fondness for riddles?  You told me yourself that she was always quoting some 'wise man'."

Eric simply groaned a second time and buried his face under his arms again, hanging his head between his drawn-up knees.  When he looked up again, it was to the sight of the crowd above him parting and the Dungeon Master striding toward him.  He rolled his eyes at the approaching mage.  "And here I thought you had a fortune cookie collection stashed under your bed.  Why me, Captain Shortness?" he moaned with some fair amount of hostility.  "What's the deal with you always picking on _me_?"

Dungeon Master's eyes softened, but kept their gentle sparkle.  "_Do you think that was what I did, Cavalier_?"

"You lied to me," Eric insisted brokenly.  "All that time you let me think . . . .  Why couldn't you just tell me who you were?"

"_If I had, would you have asked for my help?  Or accepted it when offered_?"

Eric squinted at the old man, whose face was level with his from the Cavalier's seated position.  There was an accusatory jut to the young man's chin as he scrutinized the infuriatingly pleasant visage on the ancient mage before him.  For a moment Eric thought about what it would feel like to swat that grin off his face, the way he had slugged Venger upon first re-entering the Realm.  It wasn't like His Midgetness didn't totally deserve it.

"You call that helping?" Eric asked, his voice gravelly and biting. "Giving me the mother of all stupid riddles to solve?"

"_On the contrary, Cavalier, what I gave you was the one thing you had always demanded of me:  straightforward advice_."  His soft smile widened.  Eric shook his head and sighed with somber downcast eyes.

"Remind me to be careful what I wish for," he muttered, refusing to raise his eyes to the person in front of him again.  He wanted to be angry, wanted to be unabashedly enraged, tried to force it to erupt from inside him, to take out all his frustration and hurt on this old man – woman – _whatever_!  Eric tried to make himself explode into a vicious tirade, but found himself becoming less angry as he recalled all the times that 'Cassie' had lovingly antagonized him.  She may have gone by a different name, a different face, but that didn't make her words to him any less true.

"_Besides_," Dungeon Master added gently, perhaps seeing the Cavalier's features soften, albeit reluctantly, "_what kind of a teacher would I be if I neglected to offer assistance to a pupil during his time of need_?"

Eric didn't speak for a long time, almost seeming to be digesting the information.  _The_ _riddles.  All the stupid, stupid riddles!_  But, the Cavalier would have to grudgingly admit, he had found wisdom in them more than once.  Little words, subtle hints.  Many of them had impacted him more greatly than he had realized.  Of course the most glaringly obvious was also the most recent:  "_Expect to encounter aid -- most unexpectedly; at an unforeseen time, in a strange place._"  Okay, maybe this little pearl wasn't specifically _given_ by the original Dungeon Master, but it certainly _referred_ to him.  And damn it all!  Is it part of the stinkin' job description that to be 'Master of Dungeons' one must also be 'Master of the Double-Entendre'?  Sure, the Magic Munchkin's timely arrival had helped them just minutes ago, but . . . at home too . . . .

Eric's brain felt heavy.  Dungeon Master had gone there.  To help _him_ when he needed it, to offer advice when Eric wasn't seeing the big picture.  When Denise died, when there was a baby to care for, when a young boy was aching for attention from a beloved father (attention that Eric had himself once craved more than anything), all those times when the former Cavalier had been missing the forest because he was too busy bumping into all the stupid trees.  The old man had tried to offer his aid.  

'Unexpectedly'?  At an 'unforeseen time'?  'Strange place'?  _Um_ . . . _yeah.  Yeah.  And **hell** yeah._

He may have resented the method.  Resented the deception.  But in the interim of 'Cassie's' stay, Eric realized that he had taken steps toward a real relationship with his son.  One in which the boy would truly _know_ how much Eric loved him.  The type of bond that the Cavalier had only hoped for with his own father for a very long time.

Diana had been right:  time wasn't cheap.  Maybe his money couldn't buy it, but, Eric thought, through this time back in the Realm, he was finally beginning to understand what could.  And 'Cassie Masterson' had been key in this realization.

For Eric the Cavalier, it may have resulted in a serious blow to the pride, but Eric Montgomery, the father, would never be more grateful for any gift.

Finally he looked up, his hostility nearly gone.  He couldn't bring himself to stay angry.  Not after everything 'Cassie' had done for him.  Not after all the help she had given to him -- even if, in the end, she wasn't who he thought she had been.  Ultimately, the Cavalier rolled his eyes again and simply said, "Thanks," his voice grateful if still a bit dispirited.

Dungeon Master drew nearer and began to whisper privately.  "_Never forget what I told you, Eric._"  The Cavalier looked at the old man strangely.  Although 'Cassie' had always called him by his first name, it was the first time he had ever heard the word in Dungeon Master's voice -- which gave it an odd, almost foreign sound.  But one that was curiously pleasant.  

"_Remember_," the mage continued, "_to always put first that which you value most.  Recall the desires of your own heart when you were young.  For even with the best of intentions, nothing, in this world or any other, is worth the loss of a child._"  The ancient one's face became softly insistent as his smile vanished momentarily.  

Eric's vision traveled from Dungeon Master to the majestic stature of Venger behind him, and he was struck by a strange thought.  There was something knowing about the old man's voice, different from his usual pearly wisdom.  As though, this time, he was speaking from experience.  It occurred to the Cavalier that he and his friends had never actually learned what had happened all those years ago that had caused Venger to turn away from his father.  Eric regretted the fact that now was probably not the best time to ask and, as a result, he would most likely never know.  But whatever it was, it explained why 'Cassie' had always been so adamant about Eric spending less time focused on work and more time focused on his son.  Whatever the vast differences between worlds, the role of the father is universal, and the Cavalier got the feeling that Dungeon Master's stay on Earth had been just as much for himself as it had been for Eric.

Finally, his eyes focused on John and he smiled.  Instead of putting up a wall of arguments, as he had always done with 'Cassie,' the Cavalier simply nodded.  Eric didn't wait for the old man to say any more.  He regained his poise as his gaze returned to the Dungeon Master, his smile wider, more genuine.  "Gotcha," he concurred with certainty.  

And Eric finally rose to his feet.

"What'd he say, Dad?" John asked eagerly.  

Eric realized, with a glance at his son and a quick scan of those around him, that the conversation between him and the Dungeon Master had not been heard by the others.  

_Probably for the best_, he thought, suddenly understanding why Bobby had always been so fidgety when it came to the 'gushy stuff.'  After all, the majority of Eric's most embarrassing moments had more to do with his lifelong battle with Foot-in-Mouth Syndrome and downright Bad Karma, which he tended to bring upon himself.  Not many of them ever fell into the 'gushy' category, quite simply because there was never much to gush about.  The Cavalier had a feeling that was about to change.  He grinned, resigned to that fate.

Eric placed a hand on his son's head and smiled fondly down at the boy.  "He said we're going home, Sport."  Looking at the Dungeon Master, he added, "Right, DM?"

Dungeon Master straightened, his familiar amiable smile once again shining across each of his Young Ones.  "_If you wish_," he answered.  "_However, my previous offer still stands, my friends.  The Nameless One may be gone, but much evil still exists in the Realm, and many more adventures await you, . . . should you decide to stay._"

The eleven outworlders shared a look of momentary deliberation.  Then Hank spoke for all of them.  "I think, Dungeon Master," he said, "that it's time we took our children home."  Even the Ranger felt that the time had come for them to truly return to their own world.  As Dungeon Master had said, there would always be evil -- waiting everywhere.  And right now, their home was waiting for them.

"Besides," Presto added, "I left my wife back at the park.  I think she's going to be expecting us."

"Yeah, DM," Eric jibed, kneeling down next to the minute mage and placing a hand on his shoulder, "and that's not _all_ she's 'expecting'!  Forget old No-Name!  The wrath of an eight-month pregnant woman is _not_ something you wanna mess with!"

"_Very well_," Dungeon Master conceded with a grin as he stepped back away from everyone.  Venger reached a hand up to his own chest and removed the crystal amulet which hung from the front of his cloak.  It dangled from its golden band as he placed it into the hands of Dungeon Master.  The old man continued to hold it in his open palms for a moment, keeping his eyes on Venger.  

"_You have served the Realm well in my absence, my son,_" he said.  "_Know that when it is truly your time to take up the duties of Dungeon Master of this Realm, it shall be more than your birthright.  More than your legacy.  It shall be this world's blessing_."

"Amen to that," Hank seconded quietly.

"Thank you, . . . Father," Venger replied with a low bow of his head that was full of pride.

Dungeon Master gazed auspiciously up at his own son for another brief moment before slipping the clear white stone back around his neck.  Then, he turned to the Young Ones.  "_My friends, you have been a candle for us during very dark times.  May that follow you wherever you go.  And remember, it burns brightest when together!_"  

With that, he raised his hands.  The crimson light that they emitted joined that of the jewel around his neck and shot a beam a short distance across the valley.  It struck the ground and instantly formed a portal, within which could be seen the unmistakable bustle of the amusement park.

"Unbelievable," Toby breathed silently, still overcome by the magic of this world.

"_Your weapons, as you recall, must remain here, Young Ones,_" Dungeon Master announced.  "_You, however, may go, with our deepest thanks!_"

"Aw," John groaned.  "After all that, we don't even get to keep them as a souvenir?"

"Hey, don't worry, Johnny Boy!" Toby teased.  "If you want a magic amulet, I'll just string a hockey puck around your neck!  I promise, you won't know the difference!"

"Shut up, Barney the Dinosaur!" John shot back as he laid the golden medallion at the Dungeon Master's feet and stepped toward the portal.

Eric stepped right behind him and placed both the sword and the shield onto the pile.  He looked at Dungeon Master soberly for a moment.  "You know," he said softly, "it's gonna be weird not having my nan-- er, -- 'child care engineer' around.  What am I supposed to do now?"

"_As your guide, Cavalier, it has always been my duty to help you to see, more clearly, the path that already lay within your own heart,_" Dungeon Master responded.  "_Perhaps, now, you might find someone else to fill that position._"  The old man glanced over Eric's shoulder to where Diana stood, hands rooted casually to her hips as she waited to use the portal.  Eric followed his eyes.

"Let's go, Cavalier!" she called teasingly.  "Or are you deciding how much you really _do_ like this world?"

Eric looked back to the Dungeon Master.  "You never know," he muttered with a shrug.  Then he straightened, his familiar swagger returning somewhat as he looked at Venger.  "Well," he announced, "thanks for the waltz down memory lane, Venge, but next time do me a favor.  Have your people call my people.  We'll work something out."  He then smiled genuinely, took his leave of their new guide as well, and ushered John through the portal.

"You know, I'm gonna kinda miss this griffin-head thing," the Cavalier could be heard remarking, referring to the crest on John's tabard.

"Not me," the boy mumbled.  "This stupid shirt was way too big!"

Diana and Toby were next, placing their weapons on the ground at Dungeon Master's feet.  Toby straightened after laying down the whip and glanced up suddenly when a large shadow briefly blocked out the suns' light as it passed overhead.  Squinting his sun-drenched eyes, which had spent too long in darkness for his taste, he managed to make out the hulking frame of an immense red dragon, gliding seamlessly across the sky high above.  From the creature's massive body protruded five distinct heads of various colors, unheeding of everything around them except the vast expanse of the Realm itself.  The dragon glided through the air as though it was the surveyor of all that spread out before it.  

The Fighter let out a low whistle.  "Unbelievable," he repeated, mostly to himself.

Diana cracked a smile as she took final note of, who she knew to be, Tiamat, the still-reigning Queen of Dragons, before turning to regard the ancient mage beside her.  "Thank you, Dungeon Master," she said, a bit teary-eyed.

"_Thank **you**, my child_," the sage returned and, with an unreadable look in his eyes added, "_It would have been an honor to have met a son of yours.  Especially since your nephew is such a fine lad.  I do regret the timing._"  

Diana maintained a solemn smile.  "I regret that, too," she admitted with a plaintive shrug.  "But it really doesn't have anything to do with timing.  Some things just aren't meant to be." 

"_True,_" the Dungeon Master agreed.  "_After all, things are only meant to be . . . when they **are** meant to be._"  Across his face extended a wise smile.

Diana didn't ask him to explain -- she knew he wouldn't.  Instead she simply slipped her arm through Toby's, flashed both Dungeon Masters a bright smile of her own, and stepped through the portal as well.

Varla placed her wand on the growing pile along with Presto's hat.  As she straightened, the felt a light thump against her back.  She turned to see Uni standing there and the young Mystic cradled the snout of the beautiful animal against her for a few moments.  She looked the unicorn in the eye briefly and then whispered, "Thank you, too!"

Presto shook his head.  She was still doing it -- even without the wand.

"Well," Presto proclaimed to Dungeon Master as he and his daughter neared the glowing portal, "I guess the real hocus-pocus is going back up my sleeve again!"

"_You do realize, Magician_," Dungeon Master said, "_that once you have been touched with true magic, it never does leave you_."

"I believe it," Presto replied.  "I've got real magic in my life every day."  He placed an arm around his daughter.  "But," he added cautiously, "the day I conjure up Tiamat in the children's ward . . . then I'll _know_ I put too much twiddle in it!"  He smiled broadly at the two individuals who had been their guides, and led Varla through the portal.

Hank guided Sheila and Ayesha toward the gateway as well.  After adding the cloak, bow, and sword hilt to the weapons on the ground, Sheila glanced up at Venger with a tender smile.  She reached forward, a bit hesitantly at first, then took the former Archmage's hand in hers.  "I think," she said gently, "that you're going to make a great Dungeon Master."

Venger was slightly taken aback by the affection in the Thief's voice.  It took a moment for him to smile back as he replied, "I am most grateful to hear you say that."

Sheila gently squeezed his hand and bent down to place a kiss on top of Dungeon Master's smooth head.  She then straightened and stood beside the portal home.

Ayesha also grinned at Venger.  "I'll always remember what you told me," she informed him.  "Thank you for helping me find my power."  She smiled broadly again before joining her mother.

"I just have one more question," Hank said as he, too, approached the portal.  "What's going to happen now . . . here?"  He looked without specific focus around the surrounding landscape before his eyes settled on the edifice of Tardos Keep.  His mind switched downheartedly to the tragedy of the gardened courtyard.

"_I suppose_," Dungeon Master replied, "_its rightful rulers shall finally be able to return._"

"You mean," Hank exclaimed, his eyes wide with surprise, "they're not gone?"

"No, Ranger, not gone," Venger answered, "but merely seeking sanctuary in a faraway land until the threat had passed."

"I don't envy them the work they're going to have cut out for them cleaning that place up when they get back!" Hank said, but there was a definite sigh of relief mingled in his voice.

"_The descendants of Queen Sulinara and her people will be most joyful to hear of the part the Young Ones played in saving their land once again_," Dungeon Master assured him.

"Well then," Hank sighed, "I guess this is it this time.  Thanks for everything, . . . both of you."

Dungeon Master nodded.  "_May the Heavens shine upon you down whichever road you choose to take, Ranger_," he said.

"Don't you know?" Hank asked with a smile, taking a step back in the direction of the portal.  "All those years on Earth and you never knew what I did?  I'm a teacher," he smiled.  "After all, I did have a good one, myself."  And he stepped back, with Sheila and Ayesha, into the void.

Bobby took Teri by the hand and led her forward.  But instead of stopping by the Dungeon Master, he fixed his gaze on a brilliantly white mare with a flaming mane and tail that glistened in the suns.  "Goodbye, Uni," he said sadly as he stroked a hand down the side of her velvet face.  "I'll miss you, girl.  More than ever now that I've gotten to see you again."

The unicorn nuzzled into his hand, a regal-sounding whinny rising up from her throat.  Then, as she looked Bobby dead in the eye, she managed, in a voice more closely resembling the goat-like bleat of her younger days, something that sounded like a farewell.  

"Bah-eee, bah-eee, Bhaahb-eee!"

The Barbarian grinned from ear to ear and hugged Uni's nose into his chest for a few more moments before releasing her.  "Don't worry, Uni," Teri said from over Bobby's shoulder as she slipped her hand back into his, "I'll take care of him for you."

Hand-in-hand, the two made their way to the portal.  "Well," the Barbarian said, making a wide open-armed gesture as he looked around the surrounding Realm and placed his club upon the pile of weapons.  "You know, it wasn't so bad . . . being back."  He grinned mischievously, pointing a finger in both Venger's and Dungeon Master's directions.  "See you later!"  he exclaimed, and he pulled Teri through the glowing gateway as it closed, leaving the Realm of Dungeons and Dragons behind.

"_Perhaps, Barbarian_," Dungeon Master said softly, smiling after the closing portal.  "_One can never be truly certain as to what the future holds.  Or where one's legacy will lead.  Perhaps we shall meet again, but, for now, farewell, my friends_."  Dungeon Master raised his hand as the glowing doorway winked out of existence.  

"_For now, farewell._"

*          *          *

"_WHOA!_"

Bobby's heart was suddenly in his throat as stepping through the portal plunged him into a violent freefall.  Everything around him was dark as pitch and the swirling sensation filling his head as he fell only served to disorient him even more.  What was worse, he had no idea where Teri was -- or anyone else, for that matter.  He was able to focus on very little else as he tumbled through space.

The sudden jolt that came up to meet him, although not as painful as his violent plummet would have suggested, was still enough to rattle his bones as he suddenly found himself in a seated position.  Everything tumbled around him for another moment, and in the next, a set of double doors seemed to burst open straight ahead, basking the world in an explosion of blinding sunlight and chaotic noise.  

Bobby squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light, momentarily bewildered, then realized where he was.  Ayesha was on his right, Toby on his left, Varla and John straight ahead, and surrounding them all was a little red roller coaster car, now halted on the straightaway of the _Dungeons and Dragons_ ride -- in the amusement park -- back--

"_Home_," the young man breathed.

"We -- we're back!" Ayesha gasped.  "Uncle Bobby, we're back!"  The girl threw her arms around his neck.

"I don't believe it!" Toby added as he glanced down at the modern clothes that he was now wearing.  "Thank God for T-shirts and plain old jeans!"

Varla and John were also hugging and laughing giddily in the front seat of the car.

Bobby pried Ayesha's arms from his neck and looked around.  "Where are the others?" he asked.

As if on cue, a sharp jolt was felt from behind.  Another car had entered the straightaway and impacted with the rear of the first.  In it, Bobby caught sight of Hank and the others and breathed a sigh of relief.  They had been put into the same cars in which they had originally entered the Realm.

"Come on, I said!" a gruff voice was heard from above.  "This ain't no bumper car!  Move it along!  We got people waitin', ya know!"

Bobby slowly began to realize that the ride's operator had been bellowing for them to get out of the cars.  _No problem, pal!_ he thought as he scrambled to get himself and the kids as far away from that ride as humanly possible.  

"Okay, ladies and gents!" Eric called from the car behind them, "The eagle has landed!  Everybody out!"  The six individuals in that car, likewise, made a beeline for the exit.  They met up on the opposite platform as the operator began ushering new passengers onto the ride and sending red roller coaster cars, one by one, into the maw of the waiting dragon.

Bobby pushed his way toward Teri, picked her up and swung her around joyously; not even wanting to wait until they had completely left the vicinity of the ride.  He was just happy that everyone was here and everyone was safe.  He suddenly felt a tight fist grip the sleeve of his shirt.  "_There_ you are!"  

Bobby spun around to see who had grabbed him.

"I hope you enjoyed your ride!" the crusty old roustabout snarled at him.  Bobby recognized him as the one he had seen the other day -- _No,_ he thought, _No, I guess it would have just been a short time ago here!_  He briefly wondered how much time, before deciding that it really didn't matter._  At least we know for sure that it's the same day!_

"I'm lucky I didn't lose my job after that crazy stunt you pulled earlier!" the man growled brusquely.  "I certainly hope the ride was worth it!"

Bobby stared at the man for a moment.  Then, with an arm around Teri, a hand on Ayesha's shoulder, and an absorbing look at his friends and family around him, he looked back at the old man and said, "Yeah.  Yeah, it was."  With a roguish grin he turned, and the entire group made their way through the ride's exit gate.

The operator mumbled something under his breath about _crazy kids_ as he watched them leave.  He did catch himself doing a double-take at the people who had climbed out of the second car, trying to remember if they were the ones who had actually been next in line.  He shrugged it off and went back to his work.  After all, the ride was the same for everyone . . . and riders were all the same to him.

Bobby let out a puff of air as they walked away from the ride that sounded as though it had been building up for days.  "Well," he said, "I guess Mom and Dad aren't back yet with Aunt Margie."

"That's perfect," Sheila groaned.  "I don't know about anyone else but I want to soak in a tub for at least an hour!"

"Hey, Toby!" an adolescent voice called from behind the group.  Toby slowly turned to see a pack of five youths, three boys and two girls about his own age, running to catch up.

"Hey, guys," Toby replied, almost wearily, not even bothering to introduce them.

"Where've you been, man?" asked a gangly blonde youth.  "For once, we've been looking for _you_!"

"Oh, you know," Toby said, "just walking around . . . the usual."

"Well, hey, we were about to take in a few rides," announced another boy, round-faced and brunette.  "Now that we found you, you can come with.  We were gonna start with the _D&D_, since it's right here."

Toby and the others shifted their gazes slowly and simultaneously to the ride, then back at the group of newcomers.  The five teenagers squirmed uncomfortably under the strangely dark glares that pinned them to the spot.  

"What?" asked one of the new girls with visible uneasiness. 

"No, thanks," Toby muttered definitively.  "I think I'll stick to the calmer rides."

"Like the Parachute Drop!" John chimed in.  "_Without_ the parachute!"  The young boy laughed at his own joke.

"Besides," Toby shrugged, covering, "I forgot that I was getting together with some family friends today."  He indicated Ayesha and the others around him.  "Okay if we meet up next week instead?"

The teenaged newcomers cast each other confused glares, slightly taken aback by Toby's rather weird reply.  Not only did he actually seem to _dismiss_ them, with little in the way of an explanation to boot, but did he actually hint at the _D&D_ being, . . . well, _exciting_?  Toby knew as well as the rest of them that that particular ride was just glorified animatronic kiddie fodder.

But . . . _whatever_, they thought with a shrug as they took in the sight of the motley crew before them.  If Toby wanted to hang out with these old people and little kids . . . .

"Okay, then," one of the teens replied.

"Have fun, I guess, man," added the lanky blonde boy as he took one of the girls by the hand and started to lead the way in the other direction.  "We'll talk to you in school."

Without vocal acknowledgment, Toby raised a hand to their retreating backs and then let it fall leadenly to his side, expelling a breath of exhaustion he hadn't realized had been building.  "Well," he announced, tilting his head in the direction of the park's main exit, "what's say we get outta here?  After . . . ,"  The boy suddenly caught sight of one of the overpriced food vendors and started to take a detour toward it.  ". . . after I get something to eat.  The cold mush in Mordreth's dungeon didn't exactly say 'Mmmm-Mmmm good'!"  He smiled at the group.  "Anyone else for a $6.00 hot dog?"

Ayesha fell into step behind him.  "As long as you don't elbow me in the head again!" the girl teased.  She reached into her jean pocket and drew out some of the money her Uncle Bobby had given her earlier.  Looking at her mother, she said, "We'll meet you on the way to the exit." 

Sheila nodded, reluctant to let the girl out of her sight so soon after exiting the Realm, – worrying was habit, after all – but Hank's reassuring squeeze to her hand said that everything would be fine.  Their daughter would catch right up.  

As Toby walked to the vendor's cart with Ayesha, he felt a sudden jab in his ribs.  "You elbowed her in the head?" a cocky juvenile voice said from his left.  "Smooth, man!  Real smooth!"  Toby looked down at John's smirking face as the boy trotted alongside him, joining the trek toward the food cart.  Varla was also with him, walking double-time to pass out the boys and catch up to Ayesha.

"Give me a break, kid," the older teen groaned, but then rolled his eyes with a smile of his own at the smug youngster who he had actually come to consider a friend.  Toby flashed a big-brotherly grin at John as the four new friends walked across the sidewalk.

"Presto!!" came a shout from nearby and the Magician turned.  Immediately, he saw Maggie shuffling toward them as fast as her advanced pregnancy would allow.  Presto's face looked as if the weight of the world had been lifted as he watched her run his way.  Upon reaching them, the woman threw herself into his arms, catching him in a tight embrace.

"_Ahh!_" Presto winced sharply as his wife crushed against his battered ribs.  She suddenly pulled away, flustered, looking down at where he was holding his side.  "Oh!  Oh, God!  Oh, Pres!  Are you okay?  What happened?"

Presto smiled a smile that no amount of pain could have kept down.  "Nothing that a good night's rest and a visit to my buddy Dr. Clausen wouldn't fix!" he said.  

"The eye doctor can't do a thing for your side, Preston," Maggie said curtly, but blinking out tears.

Presto lifted a hand and removed his glasses, displaying the side with the missing stem.  "Oh," his wife muttered with a slight sob as he wrapped his arms gingerly around her again.  "Where's Varla?" she whispered quietly in his ear.

Presto drew back momentarily to look into the eyes of the woman he had married.  "Over there," he said, indicating the hot dog cart where the four youngsters were now gathered.  "Everything's all right now," he added as he pulled her to him again.

"I couldn't bring myself to leave," Maggie whispered as her eyes welled up with even more thankful tears.  "I thought you would be gone so long, but I couldn't bring myself to leave!  I didn't think you'd be back so soon!"

"Trust me," Presto said as he pulled out of the embrace, "it felt like forever."  He glanced toward his daughter as he simultaneously kissed Maggie.  "I'll tell you all about it later.  Let's get the Princess home."

Diana shared a knowing glance with Eric.  He would, too.  He'd tell her every detail.

Presto and Maggie motioned to Varla to join them and began walking toward the South exit, which was closest to where Maggie's car was parked.  He turned around and called back to the others as they went.  "Listen, guys, I meant what I said.  If we're not sick of each other yet, I'd still really like to get together for dinner at my place this week.  I plan on hibernating for the rest of tonight, but how about tomorrow?"

"Try and stop us!" Hank called back.

"We'll be there with bells on!" Diana added.

Presto smiled broadly and ushered his family out of the Fantasy Land section of the amusement park.

After the Magician's family had disappeared en route to the South exit, the remaining group of friends continued their own stroll away from the ride.  Since John, Toby, and Ayesha were just finishing up at the concession stand, Eric took the opportunity to suddenly pull Diana aside.  

"Look, I need to say something to you," he told her quietly as they reached the shadow of a nearby building.  Her large eyes looked at him expectantly, and for a moment Eric was lost before he was finally able to speak.  "All that stuff ," he said, "what I told you back in the Realm.  I didn't want you to think that it was all talk . . . I mean, because I thought we were gonna die or something.  I mean, I _did_ think we were going to die, but . . ."   Eric winced as he heard himself babbling.  _Smooth, bonehead!  If you want to sweep her off her feet, you're going to need to use something a little better than the oral equivalent of a lint brush!_

Eric sighed and recollected himself.  "What I mean is, I really do want to get to know you again, Diana.  Your friendship has always meant more to me than anything . . . and I wasn't kidding when I said I loved you."  Diana could swear there was a catch to his voice as he spoke.

She smiled brightly, glowing with that same air of confidence and attitude that she had always possessed.  She stood just that way for a moment, then leaned in to brush her lips gently against his, taking him a bit off guard.  When she did, she was hit with something, something warm and powerful, something right.  _Perhaps meant to be?_  Diana pulled back and smiled at him again.  And his responding expression matched hers perfectly.

"And I wasn't kidding when I said we were worth fighting for," she replied.  "And I plan on it -- just as hard as I did for anything worthwhile back in the Realm.  But--" she added, "I do want to take it slowly.  You have a son and I'm still a few signatures away from being single again."

"My thoughts exactly!" the Cavalier insisted cheerfully as he placed an arm around her shoulders and led her back to the others.  John and the other children had returned from the concession stand and were hungrily devouring the hot dogs.  Eric scrutinized the munching before turning back to Diana.  "I thought maybe dinner," he said, "later this week."

Diana nodded happily.  "That sounds great!" she affirmed.  "Dutch," she added with a sly grin.

"Whoa!  Whoa!" Eric exclaimed as he pulled her to a stop.  "Dutch?  Now what kind of a gentleman would I be if I didn't pay milady's way?"

Diana chuckled.  "Why, Sir Eric Montgomery!" she sighed dramatically, "whoever convinced you that you were a gentleman?"

Eric waved for John and Toby to join them and the two adults continued their familiar bantering as they broke off from the others, heading for the VIP exit where Franklin, the chauffer, was waiting.  Eric placed one hand around his son's shoulders and discreetly slipped the other into Diana's as they walked.  Hank watched them leave with a knowing shake of his head.  Somehow, he had a feeling that things would be just fine for all of them.  "Don't forget Presto's tomorrow!" he called after their backs, but the foursome was already out of range.

He shrugged as he turned to face his wife.  Sheila was practically glowing at him.  Possibly remnants of the final spell back in the Realm.  Hank wasn't sure.  Sheila halted his train of thought by placing a hand on either side of his face and kissing him softly.  "You did it again, Ranger," she whispered as their lips parted, leaning her forehead against his.  "You got us home."

"_We_ did it," Hank corrected, slipping an arm around her waist as they turned to walk on.  "We shine brightest when together, remember?"

Sheila rested her head against his shoulder while they walked, glancing down to where Ayesha had joined them.  "I'll say," she replied.

Bobby and Teri lagged behind a bit, allowing Hank and his family to move ahead of them.  "Something wrong?" Teri finally asked after an extended silence from the young man at her side.

"It's just --," he admitted, "one thing's been bothering me.  Something that Venger said."

"Tell me."

"Well," Bobby said hesitantly, pulling the Dreamer to a stop, "when we first got back to the Realm, before you guys showed up, Venger was telling me about why we were brought there again . . . and why the kids were brought with us."

Teri nodded in understanding.  "Yes, he told us, too."

"One thing that he said stuck with me, though," Bobby continued.  "And it's got me a little . . . well,  . . . scared, actually."

"What?"

"When I asked him -- actually, when I _demanded_ that he tell me why Ayesha and the others were chosen to go back there too, he said it was because they carried the essences of the Realm's former champions.  That it was their legacy."  Bobby's face fell. "What if he's right?"

"I don't follow you," Teri said gently.

"What if going to the Realm _is_ the legacy that we leave to our families?" Bobby muttered, his eyes burning dangerously into Teri's.  "What if it's a vicious cycle?  What if people we love keep getting sucked back into the Realm to do God knows what?  Sixteen more years from now?  Twenty?  Fifty?  What if someday _our_ kids--"  The Barbarian suddenly went red in the face.  

Teri's lips parted in a ginger state of shock, but Bobby managed to collect himself and continue.  "I guess what I'm saying is that I don't want to leave that kind of legacy to my family.  That Realm has given us a lot, but it's also taken so much."  He paused to brush some wayward bangs out of Teri's crystal blue eyes.  "It almost took everything from me this time.  And for as much as I've gained, I wouldn't wish that place on anyone . . . especially people that I care about."

"You know what I think?" Teri finally asked after a moment of silence.  "I don't think that was what Venger meant at all."

Bobby narrowed his eyes at her in a puzzled look.

"He said that the children held the essences of the Realm's former champions.  If that's their legacy, then I see that as a good thing!"  She flashed an encouraging smile at Bobby.  "If those kids are privileged enough to have a piece of you in them, then that's a legacy worth having!"

"But--" the Barbarian tried to interrupt.

"Don't you see, Bobby?" Teri persisted.  "That Realm isn't what you leave to them.  _You_ are.  You and Sheila and Hank, Presto and Diana and Eric.  Part of each of you makes up a big part of them, no matter where they are.  They don't ever have to visit the Realm again to still carry the essence of its champions forever.  And I think _that_ is the most wonderful thing you can give."  Teri's eyes fixed on his steadily before she added, "I would know.  Because I felt part of that essence, too."

"What do you mean?" 

"Back at Tardos," Teri replied, "when Ayesha managed to heal me after Kadysse's attack.  That was why Venger made her a Paladin.  She has the spirits of Sheila, Hank, _and_ you inside of her.  When she healed me, it was like a part of you rushing right through my soul.  If you can pass that on to a niece, then any child that you have is going to have a tremendous gift.  _That_ is what I think Venger meant by legacy."

Bobby was stunned to silence for a moment, then suddenly took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply.  "I love you," he whispered when he finally pulled away, resting his forehead against hers for a moment before moving in again to briefly capture her lips.

"I know."  Teri's reply broke through the swirl of emotions after the kiss ended.  She slipped her hand back into his and pulled him along to catch up with Hank and Sheila.

"But do you know this, Ter?" Bobby asked as they walked, swinging their linked hands between them.  "You're a champion of the Realm now, too.  Any kids that you -- or we -- have are going to be something special.  That is, if you'd be interested in that kind of thing . . . once we're married . . . .  If that's what you'd want."

Teri's face glowed as she looked over at her flustered boyfriend.  "Bobby the Barbarian, that has got to be the sweetest proposal I've ever heard!" She squeezed his hand tighter as they continued to walk.  "I'll tell you one thing, I may or may not ever have another dream of the future.  Maybe we'll even see the Realm again, and maybe we won't.  This much I do know, though.  You will have me by your side no matter what.  _That_ is a promise!"

Bobby smiled.  "Is that a 'yes'?" he said as he pulled her to a stop and leaned over to kiss her again.

As they resumed their walk, they emerged from the range of the elongated shadow of the _Dungeons and Dragons_ ride, which extended across the sidewalk behind them.  The gaping jaws of the main tunnel curled upward; almost as though the ride itself was bidding farewell to the champions of the Realm and the children who carried their legacy.

*          *          *

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Epilogue to follow.

Thanks for reading!


	18. Epilogue

**Disclaimer:** Since its development in 1983, the animated series Dungeons and Dragons has belonged to the following at some point: Marvel Productions, TSR, Inc., Wizards of the Coast, Saban Entertainment, (according to rumor) Disney, and possibly even others. I guess my point is, it does not (nor has it ever) belonged to me. Oh, well! This story, however, does! I hope you enjoy it!

**Rating: PG-13** for some language and violent elements

**Author's Notes: **Well, the story has definitely ended, but I sincerely hope that readers will forgive my tardiness in tacking on this little additional afterthought. ('Cause what's a happy ending without the requisite fluffy epilogue, really?)

So, why was it so late? Well, mainly due to my laziness in transferring the drafts of this story from my old laptop to my new one. I also spent a good amount of time mulling over an intriguing idea posed by a fellow author and friend, Chance Saver ([**plug**]Read his story _Zeitgeist_! It absolutely rocks in a major, major way![**/plug**]), and I seriously considered scrapping this and writing a new one. In the end, I decided to leave it as I'd originally intended. Besides, I think it's sweet.

Big hugs to Andrea Mason, who is actually designing character portraits of the new Young Ones. (Never in a million years did I think _I_ would have fanart! _Me_!) Right now, "Ayesha" can be found at the D&D fanfic site Darkhaven, with more promised to follow, so keep checking back there! (And read the other D&D authors while you're at it!)

I'd like to take this final opportunity to thank everyone who read this story (Over 4500 hits in the last year, alone. I'm in awe.), and most especially those who took the time to offer encouragement, praise, and constructive criticism. It's so easy to just read and run – believe me, I know – but you continued to feed my head and my spirit, and made this experience all the more enjoyable! Thank you.

Hope to see you again for the next one!

* * *

_****_

_**LEGACY**_

**_Epilogue_**

The answering machine at the Tennyson household picked up after the fourth ring. The voice that rang through the den was most familiar, and the call had been eagerly awaited.

"_Hey, guys, it's me, Eric. I figured that nobody would be home at this time of day, but I knew you'd want me to call right away. Everybody's doing just great here. Everything went smoothly and Mom and Baby are doing just fine! It's a boy . . . but then we all kinda had the feeling it would be. John's thrilled. He finally gets to be the big brother! Now all we have to do is fight over who gets to tell the bedtime stories! You know we've got a ton of them! Diana sends her love and she's dying to see you guys, so I hope you can make it in soon. Hell, I'll fly you here myself if I have to! Let me know. Seriously._

"_Presto's been here three times already. I mean, the kid's not even an hour old and Dr. Magic-Fingers is already clamoring to be his pediatrician! Yeah, so I'm enjoying making him sweat a little._

"_No name yet, but that was something I was hoping you could help me with, Sheila. It must be some kind of postpartum bliss thing, but Diana mumbled something about the name 'Kosar.' His middle name, at least. She said maybe that was what Dungeon Master meant when he said she'd 'know him' again. I hope it's just the epidural talking. Anyway see what you can do about talking her out of it, Sheila. I mean, honestly, the poor kid!_

"_Bobby and Teri sent flowers already. Do me a favor and thank them for me if you talk to them before I do. They're tougher to get in touch with than you guys. You'd think they were still on their honeymoon, or something!_

"_Well, I'm gonna go before your machine cuts me off. I just wanted to let you know that everything's just fine. Give us a call at the hospital when you get in. Citywide_ _Community_. _We're in room 305. We'll be looking forward to hearing from you! Talk to you later . . . ._"

The machine clicked off and the room fell silent once again, but in its wake an energy remained, rippling and almost singing through the halls of the empty home. And just as the words of a wise old man – a friend and guide – echoed in the memory of a young mother hundreds of miles away, words that knowingly told of how things were only meant to be when the hour is right, through the stillness of the Tennyson house, the echo of a newborn legacy rang long and loud.

**_The End_**

****


End file.
